First Day of March

That was it. I chose to go for a walk just as the sun went down - lots of light left in the sky. I decided this first before dishes because it is the first day of March. If it had been the second or twelfth, I might have done dishes first.

We had a great storm sweep through today and lots of rain, so the woods were squishy, but it wasn't nearly as muddy as you'd think after that much rain. There were some broken limbs on the woodspath.

I walked in the huge parking lot and I saw an old fellow in his back yard, practicing his golf swing and made a wide berth around that. Saw a car way off in the parking lot and they hadn't seen me. Two people got out and they stood with arms out and the driver in the car came a half circle and came as if to go between them and then they saw me. I had been meaning to go that way, but I swerved off and heading a different direction to let them go on with whatever it was they were doing.

The sky still had some light and there were streaks of orange and gold and pink mixed with the grey. The road was silver and pools of water reflected the light. There was no wind, not a bit of breeze.  I saw a tree with something white on the ground under it -- I figured it was some kind of fungus and I went closer to see and the tree rattled its rusty old oakl eaves at me like it didn't want me there. I followed the trail that led into the woods. The crescent moon hung in the winter trees over my shoulder. I took the long path and it curved and curved again and up a hill and under some low-hanging limbs of an oak. I came out on a green where big oak trees grew far apart, each one the master of his space. Of course, I spoke to them.

There were ghosts with me. Some were of the place, but some were mine. My brother, Delbert, came in a strong sense of memory with no actual memory to place it. Of course I spoke to him. I spoke to others who've gone on, my niece, Theresa, my Dad and others -- but had no sense they were there. Had a sense Mom was with me, but then that inner whisper that she always would be, but not in spirit but in the life I lived. I've wondered for awhile now if Mom is back on this side.

I looked out over the lights of civilization. I don't mind the lights at all, except that there are too many of them and they are too bright. I like house lights, but the street lights are invasive and unnecessary. I went to the fence separating the greenspace with the neighborhood and walked the fence until I found the first place to cross over. Came out between two trailers and walked beside the road. I could read them by the smells; someone was cooking Italian food, someone was drying laundry.  No one was outside. This was that time of evening when we simply would NOT go in, but all the kids were inside. Television, maybe -- or internet; something drew them inside.  I thought how it would be if there was none of that -- if the streetlights went out and people came onto their porches in the evening after supper and sat and watched the sky and listened to the trees talk until it was time to go to bed. Maybe they'd have a radio and later, they'd go in and listen to Wolfman Jack.

But I'm not a back to the past type any more. Would rather go forward when the lights go out and we all relearn to build fires and make candles.

(PS: I was right yesterday and today I got my mojo back.

We went to revisit a place we once owned and now own again. Work is cut out for us there. A good adventure.)

Now... about those dishes...