I am in my "mobile writing" mode. This means my barefoot self and all my nifty technological gadgets are parked in a chair outside on the patio. I still find it hard to believe this is possible. I have an iPad which wirelessly connects to the network inside my house and a Bluetooth keyboard which wirelessly connects to my iPad so I can type with all my fingers on the keys. Just how spoiled am I?
The only hitch is that Blogger will not operate in compose mode on my iPad. In English, this means I have to type this text into another program, then cut and paste it into Blogger. There is an update I can download that will eliminate this step, but that would mean I would have to go inside, connect to my desktop computer and figure out how to do it. My brain would totally go into "business" mode and I would lose the feelings that I am experiencing outside. So I will worry about technology later.
Even the mild winter we have here in Texas has taken its toll on the back yard. The grass is brown and, except for the live oaks, the tress are bare. My herb garden still shows signs of life and there is a dormant crop of sweet pea waiting for spring to signal that it is time to shoot up and bloom. I love this old-fashioned flower. My grandmother always grew sweet pea on the fence surrounding her chicken yard. Every spring day was filled with their unmistakable fragrance (the flowers, not the chickens,) both inside and outside, so just a whiff takes me back there. They don't like the heat so as soon as summer begins to encroach, they are done. That is why you have to plant them in the fall to get their roots established before it gets cold. Unless you have a really cold winter with snow or ice, they will not freeze but just go dormant at about eight to ten inches in height. Then when the warm sun comes, they grow rapidly and bloom very early, a welcome sight after winter.
If you've been keeping up, you may realize that this talk about the coming storm seems in conflict with my views on "Winter Envy." But there I concluded that my adult self doesn't really like the cold and snow too much; it is my child self that wants to sled down the hill and make snow men. But today my adult self is happy and content. I can overlook the brown leaves everywhere, including those lying in rain puddles that have collected in the pool cover, producing some kind of primordial ooze. Even those look rather nice today in the sunshine.
When I close my eyes, lean my head back and listen, this is what I hear: the flapping of the plastic door of the greenhouse behind me; the music produced by three sets of wind chimes in my "bling tree;" a motorcycle roaring down Ranch Road 12; the hum of the pool equipment, purifying the unseen water beneath the cover; the crunch of the leaves beneath my dogs' paws as they race across the yard on squirrel patrol -- again; dogs barking in the distance; birds conversing with each other -- animal voices, but no people voices anywhere.
|The Bling Tree|
The back door is open, pulling some fresh air into the house and bringing back with it the smell of the beef short ribs in red wine that are slowly braising in the oven. That will be a fitting end to this glorious day. I wish you could join me.