After having to contend with snow in the northern end of the state yesterday and this morning, it was great to return to the greener southern climes.
Many around here would say the grass is more of a brown color at this time of year, but compared to 12 inches of white stuff, it's green - green I tell you!
Next to the golden glow of summer sun, green is the color or warmth. Lush vegetation, trees full of leaf, lawns in need of mowing - all of these scream WARM.
...And limes. Limes with their green color are a key component of those frozen concoctions we love to sip when the mercury rises in the thermometer.
Speaking of frozen concoctions - I see it's five o'clock here.
Think summer!
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Snow Gets in the Way
The thing about snow is... it gets in the way. That's why so many of us grumble about the white stuff.
Sure a pouring rain can leave us damp and uncomfortable, but with the benefit of a poncho or umbrella we can still go about our business. Splashing through a puddle is inconvenient, but the puddle doesn't need to be moved out of the way.
Having to dig a path to our cars, having to dig our cars out, having to dig our way to the mailbox, all of this is more than inconvenient - it's an additional chore none of us need in an already too busy world.
I fail to understand why civilization ever expanded beyond a narrow equatorial belt.
Sure a pouring rain can leave us damp and uncomfortable, but with the benefit of a poncho or umbrella we can still go about our business. Splashing through a puddle is inconvenient, but the puddle doesn't need to be moved out of the way.
Having to dig a path to our cars, having to dig our cars out, having to dig our way to the mailbox, all of this is more than inconvenient - it's an additional chore none of us need in an already too busy world.
I fail to understand why civilization ever expanded beyond a narrow equatorial belt.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Huntin' Down Cold
The weather here has been such that EVERYBODY talks about the cold. Even folks who normally profess to enjoy the cold are making derogatory comments. I've noticed in conversations that Cold seems to have taken on a life of it's own.
Joe's car didn't start. Not because of low temperatures. Cold prevented Joe's car from starting.
The water main on Ginny's street broke. Not because of low temperatures. Cold made the pipe break.
Billy headed off to school with wet hair and his hat froze to his head. Not because of low temperatures. Cold caused the hat to freeze to Billy's head.
If Cold was smart, Cold would get out of town before angry folks start rounding up a posse. Cold won't stand a chance against a platoon of angry citizens armed with propane heaters and heat guns.
Joe's car didn't start. Not because of low temperatures. Cold prevented Joe's car from starting.
The water main on Ginny's street broke. Not because of low temperatures. Cold made the pipe break.
Billy headed off to school with wet hair and his hat froze to his head. Not because of low temperatures. Cold caused the hat to freeze to Billy's head.
If Cold was smart, Cold would get out of town before angry folks start rounding up a posse. Cold won't stand a chance against a platoon of angry citizens armed with propane heaters and heat guns.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Turbocharged Possum
There was no hesitation on the part of the possum despite being illuminated by the headlights of my car.
The little critter had probably thought it had a clear shot across the winding two lane road... Until I steered my car around the bend just as the possum was reaching the double yellow center line.
With never a thought about changing direction, the possum ramped up from a double to triple time pace. Nose and tail touching the road like a slot car with a pin engaged in the track, the possum's legs were a blur of frantic energy. I could easily imagine the animal muttering oh crap, oh crap, oh crap as my car rolled ever closer.
A slight turn to the left on my part, coupled by a last second kick in of the possum's built in turbocharger (otherwise known as PANIC) led to the ugly critter reaching safety in the brush along the side of the road.
I can picture him now, quietly hanging from the branch of a fallen tree and boasting to his offspring how he was certain he'd outpace the car right from the start.
The little critter had probably thought it had a clear shot across the winding two lane road... Until I steered my car around the bend just as the possum was reaching the double yellow center line.
With never a thought about changing direction, the possum ramped up from a double to triple time pace. Nose and tail touching the road like a slot car with a pin engaged in the track, the possum's legs were a blur of frantic energy. I could easily imagine the animal muttering oh crap, oh crap, oh crap as my car rolled ever closer.
A slight turn to the left on my part, coupled by a last second kick in of the possum's built in turbocharger (otherwise known as PANIC) led to the ugly critter reaching safety in the brush along the side of the road.
I can picture him now, quietly hanging from the branch of a fallen tree and boasting to his offspring how he was certain he'd outpace the car right from the start.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Hotel Sleepless
The slam of a door. Muffled voices. The slam of a door. Laughter. Water running in pipes. A toothbrush being knocked on a sink. The slam of a door. The voice of a woman calling for a companion to wait.
I've always known that a hotel is not a place to get a good night's sleep. I had hoped the bottle of champagne I had shared would allow me to block the ever present sounds of other travelers. Such was not the case.
When a door slammed for the fifth time, I threw back the crisp sheets, padded over to the window, and pulled back the drapery. The clock in front of a nearby bank showed the time to be 2:45. The roads were empty. Nothing moved outside the hotel.
And yet within the walls of the ten story structure from which I stared, people prowled in search of.....
What? I wondered. Certainly not sleep.
I've always known that a hotel is not a place to get a good night's sleep. I had hoped the bottle of champagne I had shared would allow me to block the ever present sounds of other travelers. Such was not the case.
When a door slammed for the fifth time, I threw back the crisp sheets, padded over to the window, and pulled back the drapery. The clock in front of a nearby bank showed the time to be 2:45. The roads were empty. Nothing moved outside the hotel.
And yet within the walls of the ten story structure from which I stared, people prowled in search of.....
What? I wondered. Certainly not sleep.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Look, Up in the Sky...
The flash of light high in the sky drew my attention from the road in front of me.
No bigger than the head of a needle, the light blinked in and out between layers of clouds. Trying to track the light while monitoring the direction of my car, it was several minutes before I was able to identify the radiant point above as the light on the front of an airliner.
It occurred to me that behind that pinpoint of light sat somewhere around 150 people.
While I certainly don't have mega millions of frequent flyer miles, I do fly often enough to feel at ease in an airplane. But tonight's ground view perspective of over a hundred folks packed into something smaller in size than a matchbox just might have me thinking differently the next time I feel jet engines roar to life.
No bigger than the head of a needle, the light blinked in and out between layers of clouds. Trying to track the light while monitoring the direction of my car, it was several minutes before I was able to identify the radiant point above as the light on the front of an airliner.
It occurred to me that behind that pinpoint of light sat somewhere around 150 people.
While I certainly don't have mega millions of frequent flyer miles, I do fly often enough to feel at ease in an airplane. But tonight's ground view perspective of over a hundred folks packed into something smaller in size than a matchbox just might have me thinking differently the next time I feel jet engines roar to life.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Bubble & Wave
Busy evening. I offer a short meditation:
To try to turn fate is to burst the bubble.
The successful person rides the wave.
To try to turn fate is to burst the bubble.
The successful person rides the wave.
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