I awoke at 3:30 this morning to the sounds of heavenly warbling, trilling, chirping, and singing of a member of the avian species that calls my backyard her home, although she has never made the first payment toward same. I shall overlook that fact, however, as her singing is as precious and wondrous a thing as God hath ever wrought. I closed my eyes in the predawn darkness and, for an hour, was mesmerized by her repertoire of highs, lows, and wafting musical bits of bird genius. Mozart himself would be a mere elementary level student in the presence of this heavenly master.
I decided over the course of this day that the crooner must be a mockingbird, a species, I am told, that boasts over thirty different, distinct sounds in its considerable book of psalms. This morning was the second day I have heard this angelic concert, and I hope to hear many more such in the days and months to come.
On another note---pun intended---I was shocked and amazed later in the day when Cindy casually asked me if I had ever heard of something called a "Katydid". You coulda' knocked this po' boy over with a feather when I heard that question. I've known about Katydids all my life and am wondering where this poor child has been. I don't think I'll ever get over that one.
At the local supermarket, I was astonished to find that a new sign had been erected in the parking lot---advising that a spot has been set aside for "parents with children". This establishes, along with the handicapped, those pregnant and employees of the month, a new class of priviledged individuals. I suppose that I could park in that space if I had my 40 year old daughter with me. Hmmm.
Let it be known that my beloved Sweet Baby Ray's BBQ sauce, my favorite sauce for the past X number of years, has now been displaced from its number one position by the Blues Hog brand. Ain't nuthin' like it. You prolly can't buy it where you are, because it is not widely distributed....but trust me---it will be.
Then, along around noonish, following a nice, leisurely workout, I was surprised to discover that, in the thick hedge that borders our backyard, a considerable mess of blackberries is growing and is ready for harvest, which Clint has tentatively scheduled for tomorrow morning before the heat of the day makes life outdoors unbearable for man and beast alike. Visions of blackberry cobbler have been dancing through my head all afternoon. With vanilla ice cream, of course. That goes without saying.
I have come into the possession of a book that is truly great writing with great insight. Well, that is what great writers do, and ThomasWolfe is certainly one of this country's greatest writers. Name of book: From Death To Morning.
It occurred to me this mawnin', after my usual two mugs o' joe, that the inground sprinkler system we had in our front yard in Texas is a far inferior way to irrigate neighborhood grass that the simple, yet highly effective and cheap above ground hose and oscillating sprinkler that I now possess. Inground systems require constant expense and repair. The cheap thingie I got now requires nothing, and that is something I excel at.
Also, while roaming the backyard today I realized once again how lucky I am to have shed myself of swimming pool ownership. No more chlorine, pumps, electrical systems, filters, pool cleanings, Kreepy Kraulys that don't work and wives that are not happy because more money must be spent on upkeep.
Good friend, thank you for listening.
