Wintry Mix

Rain, sleet, snow. Changing from one minute to the next. I leave the back porch light turned on, because the cone of illumination is so alive in refracted rainbows. I keep getting up, from the chair where I write, to go stand inside the door, and watch, through the nine lights, the forms water can take. "Budgets are moral documents." MLK said, and of course, that's correct. What, and the way you spend. I'm frankly embarrassed by our 'defense' spending. Sailed through Congress because of the vested interests, but 700 billion seems excessive. Sometimes I feel like Jesse James. Wait, who's that playing the Hammond organ? Booker T, is that you? Another massive storm rolling out of the Rockies, so I think I'll batten down the house and head into town later today. I need to be at the museum, because it'll just be D and I, everyone else taking the week off, and I expect D will take off an extra day or two. I've got plenty of Carter research to do, and I'd rather be stuck in town, with a private library, than having to deal with icy roads. Christmas doesn't mean much to me, the days getting longer is what I care about. The bean soup turned out well, and I can take that with me, some cornbread, walk over to Kroger and get a sweet onion. Plenty of whiskey, plenty of tobacco. It'll be quiet and no one will know where I am, which suits me. The quiet especially, and the hot running water. What more could a poor boy want? I love the way light rises, behind the overcast, a brighter gray, with a silhouette of trees. It's a lovely thing. Two young squirrels scampering, three crows squawking, a Pileated Woodpecker hammering on a hickory tree. I have to go take a nap, it's all too much for me.