That's the exact description that came to mind, as mentally, I said this to myself this morning (three mornings ago, maybe four now, actually!) upon first opening the front door.
It was a nice kind of cool, but a distinctive 'nip' also spoke up first in the atmosphere. Just as a perfume blend has different notes and undertones, this 'nip' in the air tried to elbow its way forward but was more noticeable because it was out of place- it should not have been there, but it was. Except at sun-up, this 'nip,' which had a nippiness in the early air of the morning, would have to battle the sun and likely lose even a trace of itself.
Elsewhere on the trees, I see the new 'tips' birthing forth in the Spring, trying to assert themselves shyly but surely, especially on my sycamore, which, in its bareness, suddenly seems too close to the house.
Are humans always talking to themselves? Rather, to rephrase, are all humans like this: observing, curious, and interested, to put it politely? Maybe not all humans. Animals and wildlife certainly. I think.
How can anyone not be? Not be aware of what touches our skin most intimately, as does the sun, rain, soil, and wind? And how we all react differently, not just in how that touch is reflected and received on the skin but how we feel about it. For example, I have rough hands, still cracking dry, with bruises after weeding my garden without gloves. That's my hands, independently of me; I, the person, enjoy getting my hands dirty when I'm working in the soil. Why would gloves come between us, that union of Mother Earth and child? I never allow gloves to do that. Never wear gloves for gardening, that is. That's why there are no harsh chemicals in our soil. Why would I poison my mother and all the wildlife that feeds on and in it, above and below ground, and many live in the waters where the runoff from rains deposits it? In our waterways?
The sun is not aggressive these days, which is excellent, and I spent a lot of time outdoors without a hat yesterday. Maybe it's not a good idea because sometimes the heat shows up as a headache the next day. (It did! And overstayed its visit) The oaks, however, provided areas of shade. Maybe we, rather I, shouldn't have had them pruned along their winding branches that are growing low and horizontally.
The turtles were sunning themselves on the now dilapidated dock jutting out into the smallish lake, now clearly looking dilapidated. I should have repaired it after the hurricanes and the flooding that persisted, drowning parts of the long dock.
This abrupt ending to the slow meandering of my thoughts is what happens when I don't finish what I have to say. The continuity is lost. The chain of ~ thought is broken breaks, and the feelings can't be revived when I return to it later. It was not the first time, and also it was not the last.
It has been the same the last few days, though it tried to warm up today. It also rained downtown, where we had gone for Vietnamese to Ann Hong. We've not been too regular since discovering the Korean not too far, as it's on the Bib Gourmand list for Orlando. They do a deliciously hearty vegetarian Bibimbap!
At Ahn Hong, I had my standard #145. Indeed, there are not a gazillion vegetarian options. For starters, summer roll and Bahn Mi were nice options for appetizers. Beansprouts and Thai basil heaped upon my plate of vegetables with a gently flavored sauce, made my tastebuds and tummy very happy!
Veenu Banga
03/03/2024
12:23 am
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