I took the long way home today. Down the back roads and through the endless fields of corn and soybeans to the north and west of me. No real reason, it was nice out. Nice for a drive.
First you smell it then you taste it and then you look off to the west to the lowering sun. A low haze of crop dust that stretches the length of the horizon. The setting sun turning it to gold. Now and then far off in the distance a combine or a tree or a lone stand of trees sits in the same gold glow.
Fields of tall brown corn stalks, a mix of green and brown soybeans and already some of just dirt. Harvested, but not yet plowed under. The smell of dirt and dust and clean fresh air blowing over land with virtually no towns let alone something big enough to call a city.
At home, a dinner of fish and vegetables. Afterward, the slow methodical way I like to wash the dishes. Rinse off food remnants, scrub and soap and rinse clean. Line things up in the strainer. My wife makes fun of me, but it’s my mindless, thoughtless time. Do things squeak when I rub them after I rinse them? Yes they do, they always do.
Out in the backyard, sitting on the deck, petting the momma cat as her three kittens run rampant in the yard. She’s full of little burs, again, and lays down for a brushing with a fine toothed brush. The purring starts, then the push, push, pushing of the front paws.
Then we’re stalked. The three attack, my legs, my hands, my arms, her tail, her head, then get bored and head out into the yard. The edge of the sky is dark blue turning to gold as they stalk the last of the shadows then each other. Rolling around the yard, wrestling and sometimes biting too hard and a short cry. Then repeat.
Momma goes out and lays in the grass, it’s a game. They stalk and attack her, she bats at them back till they get too rough. Then with a quick swing of a paw she pins them to the ground and bites them in the back of the neck. Another little yelp, she’s the boss and that’s that. Don’t fuck with momma, we clear on that?
It’s near dark, a few stars appear, the horizon is a light blue gold. The kittens are shadows running around the yard. They merge, then part and merge again. Another yelp, someone bit too hard.
I watched and smoked the cheap cigar till it warmed my lips, not wanting to let it go or get up and let this end.
No wonder I don’t seem to get much done anymore.
I’m kinda busy.
bob
9 Oct 2013i’m tired. I could use a rest. like this. and some fishing
Ken G
9 Oct 2013I’ll probably do the same tonight Bob. Same kinda sky supposedly. Sized up some spots to stop and try to take a lame panorama. The dishes will need to be done, cat will need grooming and I forgot about the dog. She now insists on an evening stroll and goes nuts when she see me heading for the door with a cheap cigar.
walt
9 Oct 2013I hear ya, Ken, it’s kinda hard to get shit done when your plate is full of wonder.
Ken G
9 Oct 2013Perfectly put Walt. Some day I’ll have the time to jot it all down like you do. Till then, I store it all away somewhere in this thick head of mine.
bob
13 Mar 2015washing dishes is a zen meditation. at one with oneself, the water, the round circular motion of cleaning the plates and glasses, the rinsing, the wiping the sink and counter after. zen mediation.
Ken G
14 Mar 2015All the places I’ve lived for the past 30 years had windows over the kitchen sink. Have to have that window. I refuse to learn how to use a dishwasher. I’m the dishwasher. It is funny, it’s my quiet time.