Could a post titled “Sunday Morning” promise less? How dull. But that’s sort of the way it is today. A smart way to read this post might be to do so in comparison with yesterday’s. I don’t know. We’ll see.
Not so long ago Sunday mornings were good around here. Happy, lively and served with breakfast. Open windows, birdsong, and curtains billowing in the morning breeze. All that kind of stuff.
Now the place is sealed tight — like the heart of a lost love — and nothing billows in the wind. Windows closed, blinds drawn, and the only sound heard is indefinable whir. The place feels like a tomb, both empty and crowded. Nothing moves, nothing seems to change. It really is so much like love lost.
I took today’s walk a little earlier than usual. First to beat the heat and second to shake the blues. In mixed measures, it worked.
Weekends can be a challenge down by the lake, however. The weekend visitors tend to amble along a bit carelessly, if not menacingly, very much like George Ramero’s zombies.
Maybe the worst of the bunch are the Universalists heading toward the band shell for Sunday morning services. They arrive in packs that move almost imperceptibly, like blobs. They were generally a wide-bodied set this morning and left little room along the walking path. The Universalists have room for everyone it seems unless you’re one of God’s children who wants to pass them on the trail.
I was a little wound up by the time I got to the woods.
Lost today was that sense of peace from yesterday. No wildlife. Not even a woodpecker. And the woods are getting buggy. It was cool back there, even without the breeze, and I was very much alone, which I enjoy. But I couldn’t shake the malaise. Even the robins seemed cranky this morning, holding close the ground and running rather than flying out of my way. (It is easy to tell when a robin is pissed. If he looks pissed, he’s pissed. Period.)
Half way through my walk at the point when I begin to look forward to a cold bottle of Orange Crush and a salami and American cheese sandwich on a hamburger bun, I realized I was out of Orange Crush, American cheese, and hamburger buns. When the Fates see that you’re down, they waste no time taking a kick or two.
So I stopped right there, took a deep breath, and I reminded myself that the day had just begun. I’ll call someone for lunch, put on a smile and walk with purpose. That will change things. Check in with me later.
- Sunday morning… (davidkanigan.com)
- Bill Introduced to Legalize Sunday Morning Brunch – New York Times (blog) (cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com)