No matter how early I get up, the world
is already whirling; no matter
how silent the kitchen, the stove is warm,
like a great heart, the coffee beans
are sending out their dark signal,
the cat is half-awake, his second eyelids
partly glued to the two suns
of his eyes. The oranges contain themselves
like glorious planets on the cheese tray,
the milk waits, luminous in its carton,
the round table abides, the day
grows wide. Slowly I step into
its bright stream.
Matter, by Carolyn Miller.
I found this poem while I was lazily reading my way through the Squam blog, over here. I've been busy of late. Madly, truly, beautifully, crazily busy. It has reminded me of crazy times spent running down scree-slopes back when I was young and foolish. And while I didn't lose control of the beautiful madness and it stayed fun, I did need to keep that forward-momentum going just to stay on my feet.
My next blog post, outlined on a piece of pink note-paper just now, will be all about things I enjoyed during those days. And really, there was so much. But today I rested. I lolled about. I read. I noted down quotes as I read. I listened to music. Baked bread. Had 4 loads of laundry dry outside on the line. I nibbled, searching for something to magically re-energise me - trying all but those scary vials of vitamins I bought a month or two ago. Gert has taken to sighing when he asks if I've had any yet. I have an osmosis theory about medicines and vitamins. If they sit close by and I look at them sometimes, they work ... magically. By osmosis. Julie might snort laughter through her nose if she reads this ...
Today I didn't drink any red wine. I sighed over all that still needed done but thought 'Tomorrow'. Tomorrow is Monday and I will begin again then!' as if I really meant it. And I do.
The house is clean and it smells of fresh laundry ... as the towels had to come in and finish drying on the clothes-horse I use instead of an electric dryer. And the house smells of freshly-baked bread because the loaf finished cooking not so long ago. And in just over 7 hours the smell of coffee will be filling the house, as my coffee beans are ground and become a rather lovely espresso. Thank you to Wesley for selling me her exquisite coffee machine back in October.
And that is how it is here tonight. The time is becoming midnight in another 32 minutes, I should be sleeping but somehow writing this became that more interesting thing that woke me a little.
The photograph ... taken while out wandering with Lynette, at an ungodly early morning winter hour, last Friday. The posh fries shop made me smile. It did.