Heart Happy (cathy_edgett) wrote,
Heart Happy

Continuing -

Gar and Jan take Katy to the beach for a surfing lesson.  I walk around and see that we have the best home on the island, and it is a home.  It has not been rented before, and the owner checks in with us.  It is pristine.   I love my nook here, and will soon go for a swim.   The pool is made of tiny, colored rocks, rather than concrete or cement.  I always get those two words mixed up as to meaning.  It is surrounded with grass, and has jets, so it is a giant pool that is also like a hot tub.   It is lovely.  The wind has picked up, and there is a cool breeze.  I see my happy Cardinal couple again, and a seagull.  I am content.  I forgot to mention that Katy and I saw fireflies the first night we were here. 

I thought I would give you some words from Timothy, the "abject" reptile.  I love this book.   : )

At one point, the "owners" of Timothy, are upset because the tortoise has gotten "out."   He comments on his trip away, a bit disturbed that he has been "discovered" and returned.  

    "There is no Out!  Humans believe the asparagus forest is in!  Fruit wall, laurel hedge.  Melon-ground. They prey upon the distinction.  But I am always Out.  Among the anemones.  On the grass-plot.  In the shade of the Dutch-currant trees.  In the sainfoin just short of the Pound Field.  Under young beans a week away.  Under the rasp and green-rust smell of their leaves.

    And I was In there too, as always.  In, under unhedged stars, dark of the moon.  Among chiding of field-crickets, stirring of long grasses, gleaming wind.  Groaning of beech trees on the Hangar. Claps of thunder and din of hail. The honeyed smell of maples and sycamores in bloom.  Clouds pulling apart to show their crimson.  Beyond sight of humans.  Within my beloved shell.

    Great soft tottering beasts.  They are out!  Houses never by when they need them. Even the humblest villagers live in ill-fitting houses.  The greater the personage the worse the fit.  Crescent of pale shell at the ends of their fingers.  Drab furrows of person-scented cloth hang about them.  Dimity, corduroy, buckram, fustian, holland, shalloon, cambric, stuff, wool.  False head of hair or kerchief or hat."

Timothy goes on.  Remember he is an eighteenth-century turtle commenting on what he saw then.  What would he say now?  Look around and see like a turtle.  Move slowly, carefully, observantly, and sacredly, today.


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