Eeeeewwww. No, I do not like these, either. Even though I do admire their tenacity and work ethic. Maybe they even have the perfect political system, you know, autocratic dictator monarchy. I doubt that they have tea parties on the side, or revolutions, or even scholastic debates. But then, I do not know this: They may really have a perfectly good system. Ha ha. I am sure that the day after tomorrow, when everything ends, that they will still be scurrying around doing what they do, with not an eyelash disturbed. Apparently they haven't sinned enough to be disturbed.
I stopped my car yesterday, with intention to photograph a flock of cliff swallows fluttering in a roadside puddle. They looked like butterflies, all fairy motion and soft colors. I pulled off the pavement, gathered up my camera, and snuck up on them. They flew off, circled back around, and left, every one of them. I thought, fine, I'll just sit here and wait. They won this round. I really really really want to catch them doing this mud gathering. I noticed again this morning, this gathering in the puddle, but I was in too much of a hurry to stop. You know, with the end of the world imminent, it is imperative to complete one's list. Note to self: it is exquisite to sit in the sun and wait for swallows.
Who would live in that little box on a pole at the top of the knoll? A troll?
What happens when lightening strikes?
Storms have been blowing through our landscape, creating splendor making it difficult to drive in a straight line. Fortunately all of the little country roads lead to where I am trying to go, so, eventually the destination becomes a reality, not just an endless journey. No wonder I am not an ant.
This morning, before I was awake, so I didn't even know it was happening, a brisk and cool wind came up and blew open the front door.
Luna Dog was asleep in her chair. I am sure that she looked up, sleepy-eyes long gone, and noticed a grand opportunity. Oh yes. All she had to do was bang the screen door, and freedom would extend its morning promise to her, kind of like life is a bowl of cherries, or something of that nature. So, she calmly slipped out of her chair and did it; seized the opportunity.
Wild Man was asleep, until he heard the screen door bounce against the side of the house. He leapt, in one 80lb bounce, using Wayne as the launching pad, onto the rug next to the bed. In desparation to catch up with Luna, he hurled himself into the livingroom, gaining no traction on the slick floor. This is when Wayne and and I woke up: the noise was deafening, what I would imagine rolling up the floor would sound like, using hammers, winches and scraping tools. When we arrived, to find the door waving in the wind, chairs askew, rugs piled in the hallway, the obvious conclusion was that the dogs had escaped.
Now. I am wondering. What are they escaping from? They are not mistreated, they have food, shelter, cars, their needs are met every moment of every day. What is the problem?
Oh. I forgot. The world ends the day after tomorrow. There are cats to chase, chickens to frighten. There is barely-light early morning. There is feeling every muscle put to the pursuit of careening down the lane.
Oh. I am seeing a lesson forming here: What am I going to do DO for these last remaining days? I had better get busy.
I love you.