Saturday, June 16, 2012

Saturday Morning Minutia

The sun just this instant rose, flooding my keyboard with orangy-gold light. The dawn breeze lacks the smallest thread of coolth. The sky is cloudless and tinged with pink along the rim of the western horizon, where Valley pollutants are building their summer pleasure domes. Summer heat is finally upon us, apparently.

The minutia of a Big Hill morning are in progress. Maclovio just mounted an heroic defense against the invading Mr. Sniffles, the marauding neighbor cat who slinks in at all hours and devours both cat and dog food. In the garden, bees are already plying the flowers and sipping from the basin of the fountain. A congress of shrieking blue jays just routed Mr. Sniffles from a hunting expedition in the shed. On the rounded, straw-colored hills outside of Columbia, long blue tree shadows stretch westward like spilled ink. The air is filled with the mingled scents of jasmine and honeysuckle. Peace reigns.

I’ve just refreshed the water of the bouquet of pink roses, my father’s favorites, on my desk, and of the artichoke on its powerful stalk, before the deep heat can leave them waterless. The emails are answered; the batter for our morning mushroom crepes is already cooling in the frig; and the deck is swept and its potted plants watered. Soon I’ll be off for the farmer’s market, basket in hand. Today, I’m looking for ripe peaches and a bottle of Persian Lime olive oil.

In a world so filled with troubles, I feel blessed beyond measure to experience such peace and plenty. My prayer this morning is, as always, that someday the world will allow this quietude and plentitude to wrap itself around every heart and across every doorstep. Blessings of the day to all. 

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