I got up this morning on the left side of the bed.
This was not as straightforward as it sounds. I had to push the bed away from the wall to get out on that side.
At 5:00 a.m. the moon, symbol of wisdom, cast a fairly strong light despite the thin cloud cover. The truth will out, as they say.
As I sat outside drinking my coffee, I could hear water trickling in the spring and in the stream. That’s very unusual for this time of year.
The first train whistle was from the east, just three short blasts.
It’s 6:30 and I have yet to hear a single white-throated sparrow sing. According to birders’ onomatopoeic lore, its song says, “Oh sweet Canada, Canada, Canada!” Not that Canada would necessarily be a bad place to live . . .
Instead, the song sparrow seems eerily insistent this morning: “Hip hip hurrah, boys! Spring is here!” Spring in November? It’s possible!
In fact, the long-range forecast from the U.S. Weather Service calls for mild temperatures and sunny skies starting tomorrow.
Yesterday afternoon the great-horned owl began calling well before dark. It began in the deepest part of the hollow, but as darkness fell, it moved higher and higher up the ridge.
For my first breakfast I peeled an apple, keeping the peel all in one piece. When I was finished, I passed it around my head three times in a clockwise direction and let it fall to the floor. It landed in the rough shape of the letter “D” if you sort of squinted a little. Not “R”. And certainly not “W”!
It’s said that if you dig a hole when the moon is waxing, you’ll have more than enough dirt to fill it up. But if you dig a hole when the moon is waning, you’ll never have enough dirt to fill the hole you’ve dug. The moon’s on the wane, Mr. President. You might want to think about patching things up with some of those pesky trial lawyers.
When I went out to take a leak just now, a crow flew overhead from north to south. Hey, where’s your usual gang of obnoxious friends? It held its tongue.
Too late I realized that I had pulled my left boot on first, contrary to the superstition. Well, I don’t believe in any of that stuff, anyway. Luck is where you find it – and what you make of it.
Still, as a poet I must admit to some, slight belief in word magic. What we say influences what we think and how we act, insinuates itself into the very fabric of reality! Yep. Therefore, I’m calling this election for John Kerry BY A LANDSLIDE. Alert the media.
Now let’s all get busy and put the “ex” back in “Texas”! See you at the polls!