laramie

The sky is dull gray and the air moist with suggestions of coming rain. It's warm enough that the breeze is a pleasant counterpoint to the dampness of the air. Everything is green; the Lilacs are fading, but still abloom. Some Daffodils have emerged along the fence in the front yard. The grass in the back yard is spangled with Dandelions and growing ever thicker and longer. Carolyn said she would drive me to a gas station to get gas for the mower, but she came down sick this weekend. I didn't want to chance taking the car out on Sunday when there's not much traffic. My chances of being overlooked will be better during rush hour some evening.

On Saturday morning I went for a walk to Powderhorn, around the small lake, and home again. The weather was perfect: clear and sunny, and, before ten in the morning, still cool enough for pleasant walking. Along the way I observed hosts of Dandelions along the verge of the sidewalk, and Lilies-of-the-Valley growing as thick as grass beside the foundations of one house. Someone had left some luggage sitting out on their front walk, near the public sidewalk: two medium sized suitcases and a smaller make-up case. They were still undisturbed when I passed that way again on my way home. I exchanged greetings with a gardener, a woman in short overalls who was bent over the plants in her rock-garden.

When I got down to the lake I met a pair of Mallards and gave them some corn, but the rest of the birds weren't in evidence. I started around the lake on the new walk running right at the edge of the water, and threw out some more corn for a few ducks I met along the way. A lone Canadian Goose came and got some, but another pair stayed to take bread from some people throwing it from the gazebo on the water's edge. Some people came too close with their dogs and scared the birds off. (A Great Dane with the coloring of a Doberman (or the biggest Dobie in the world) and a brown Boxer with white muzzle, almost as large.) The people and dogs settled at a table not far from me so I proceeded around the lake, stopping in a few places to throw out the corn where the birds could find it later.

During the course of my walk I was surprised by the clarity of the water and the nearly uniform coating of something the color of bread mold that seemed to be growing over everything on the lake bottom except a few bits of human trash. It coated the mud and the rocks and the underwater plants alike. Near the island was some contraption that looked like a fireman's ladder laid on its side and bent around a small boat. I wondered if the bread-mold colored stuff was something put there by human agency.

I saw a largish fish (a Perch?) swim out from shore as I passed along the South of the lake. In the Northeast corner of the lake there was a lot of alga on the surface of the water and I was pleased to see an Egret there, wading near a Heron or Crane of some variety. (I tend to think that they are all Great Blue Herons, but I've heard that there are in fact several varieties of the birds there and I don't know their distinguishing features.) The Egret was shy and flew off even though I walked wide around the area. The Heron was hunting and didn't mind my presence. I stopped not far off and watched it at work, keeping still, and before long the Egret returned.

The Heron stayed very still, too, with head and neck poised above the water like a spear to be thrown, gliding forward one cautious step at a time. An approaching jogger whistled and shouted to 'Jacqueline' – a young woman playing in the grass with a toddler, not far off – and the Egret flew off again – last seen heading West. I stayed still and so did the Heron. Before long I was rewarded by seeing the quick dart of its white-streaked head into the water and the swallow that moved its throat as something went down. At that I proceeded around the lake, and was rewarded again when I spotted another pair of Geese in a family grouping with five or six tiny yellow goslings.

Sunday morning I had a good session of practice with my mandolin, working on memorizing the chords for some songs for which I've been relying on the books. I'd like to get 'Turning Toward the Morning' down, and I made some good progress on that. I also worked on 'Bird on a Wire,' and 'Motherless Child,' 'Trouble in Mind,' 'Bedlam Cats,' 'The Fellowship Going South,' 'The Ballad of Transport 18,' 'A Cautionary Tale,' and I went over a few old favorites that I already have memorized. Singing the blues numbers was especially soothing – I think sometimes people just need to get the sadness and worry and such out of our systems before we can go on to feel better or to appreciate the positive things we've got going.

In the afternoon I went online and checked job listings on The StarTrib's Work Avenue page, and at FlipDog and Monster.com. I updated the resume on file at FlipDog. I sent responses on several of the jobs posted. I also looked for some tech help on the Sims site for the problem with Melissa Roomie. The only solution listed was to reinstall The Sims, which I already tried fruitlessly, but I had saved the Game Data. I may have to do it again and sacrifice the corrupted Game Data. I may still be able to save the work I did redesigning and decorating the houses. During my time online I played episodes from Buffy the Vampire Slayer's second season (on DVD).

When I was tired of working and playing at the computer I went back to my beadwork and finished the Spring Leaves in Sunshine bookmark. It's pretty. I should keep it for myself and use it in the big gardener's encyclopedia. Of course whenever I finish a bookmark I want to keep it for myself, but by the time I finish the next one or two I can think more equably about putting it on the market. I put away the peridot and malachite chips and was moved to do something with garnet and citrine and the last of the blue zircon. There are a couple large amber beads that will go nicely with this, and a length of wide golden satin ribbon. I made a start on it, while watching a couple more episodes of Buffy.

In between one thing and another I made a big pot of salmon stew, with mushrooms and carrots, tarragon and marjoram. I had a couple bowls of this, with buttered toast, for a late lunch.

This morning I walked through the skyways to the office (or as near as the skyways take me). During the walk I thought of writing about my ideal day, if I had the means to do only the things I want to do. It gave me some amusement to contemplate a day in which I rushed from one creative activity to another, pausing only to accept the lauds and honors heaped upon me by others, and to be courted by the man of my dreams. It reminded me of the song, 'Sit Down' by James, which has the refrain, 'Those who feel the breath of sadness, sit down next to me; Those who find themselves touched by madness, sit down next to me; Those who find themselves Ridiculous, Sit Down Next to Me!”