Budding Trees

The Red Maple buds are particularly lovely, a pale pink. Cold front moving in, of course, and I took the truck down this afternoon, because of forecast rains, was able to look closely at several species of bush and tree, they way they individually start their seasonal growth. Some very bright small flowers in the driveway median and on the verges, bright yellow miniature daisies. Its a pleasure to walk up the driveway without a pack, in a tee-shirt, no less. 68 degrees. Back into the thirties tomorrow night, chance of snow. Now, at dusk, big gusts of wind roll across the ridge top, leaves are drifting, first drops of rain. Did my taxes today, so I can email them in, $500 plus a little back, and I've ear-marked that money for materials to work on the house, tighten up for next winter. This last year was a haul, for a great many reasons, not really close to the edge, but a wake-up call, I need to tighten ship a bit. More rain, in waves. I have the window in front of me, where I write, open a bit, so I can better hear the natural world, which is wonderful, because it drowns out the only two other sounds with which I am assaulted: my computer and the refrigerator. Noise is such a part of life, we hardly notice. Thunderstorms. I have to go to sleep. Overnight, the blackberry canes, south of the deck in front of the house, are wearing green leaves the size of a mouse's ear. Color returns to the world. Rains all day, I harvest water and heat a bath, a splendid lunch of fried potatoes and a cheese omelet, then spend most of the afternoon making a fairly large Moussaka I can microwave and eat for several days. I love both eggplant and lamb. At some point I ran out of olive oil and started using walnut oil, because I had some, and it's great, the layer it layers. I caramelized two huge yellow onions in butter, taking my time, almost an hour, and they were perfect, as close as we mere mortals can get. The argument against doing this is the time required, but I don't care about that, I'm just going to be reading anyway, and I can move over to the island, as my reading station, give them a stir every few minutes, it's not a big deal; it's no deal at all, actually, I like the smell, and that's more than enough for me. I had some celery hearts that had been remaindered, and I set about caramelizing them, and they were so good, I swear to god, that I ate most of them on crackers, with a slice of pickled pepper. Talk about distracted. I'm so at peace with a barren landscape that I question my sanity. If he can be at peace with this, myself, I guess, so can I. Language is funny, I've always said that, what we think we're saying. I'm at a lose, I understand more than most, mopping my modified chevron, but I miss things, current events pass me by, sometimes I miss whole years, decades, I'm not a reliable witness.