Tuesday, July 11, 2017

Early morning walk--Tuesday July 11, 2017

Everything was speaking in tongues on my walk this morning. The fantastic coolness of the hour got me out of the house. For some reason the feverish heat has broken and it's nice out. The mosquitoes were kept away with bug spray and I went about the neighbourhood listening.
The aspens were particularly noisome near the trail by the big houses. The big houses are the posh part of my neighbourhood where I like to walk so as to get ideas for the overstuffed garden. The big houses have civilized landscapes where the plants are murmuring refined conversation and not shrieking growth as they are in my jungle.
The aspens as I mentioned were rattling their full bowls of leaves asking for more and more. The water fountains in every posh house's garden were tinkling coin showers. There were scraping branches being tugged against each other by the magical wind. Magpies were investigating crimes of garbage by the side of the road like avian inspectors of health. I left them to their duties. There were ants filling out their usual monolithic bureaucracies of dirt and in the intricate spaces between cement there were whirling dervishes of them frenziedly working and no doubt castigating each other for their poor efforts.
The entire neighbourhood was full of voices and words. By the marsh the self satisfied crooning of the red winged blackbirds grated terribly on my nerves; it's bad enough that the males insist on parading their red epaulettes on their wings for all the gawking female red winged blackbirds in their drab gowns but to find them smirking through marriage and family builds was entirely too much. There will be ducks hammering later in the day their beaks against the wall of water. The incredible felicity of all is very tiring when I am not even awake but moving like a pseudopodial appendage through the streets.
When I got home I thought about the noisome world and how I never really pay attention to the words of the world unless no one is up and the cars are stationary. Even the lilies that the hares haven't eaten in the front garden bed were loudly proclaiming their virtues to me and I was delighted to return to the still silent house with cabbages of silence growing furtively in the shadows. Younger boy is still asleep.
Maybe it is quieter at night.
Remedios Varo

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