There's so much going on with the sky that it's hard to believe it's not raining, but it isn't. And hasn't. Wet street. Wet driveway. We are getting some Olympic fog around here at night, or the Dew of Champions. Still: In the pansy beds, the soil's wet, so I shan't complain.
The leaf truck is in the neighborhood, so there is, then, that. I was wrong about the leaf truck schedule: Though it was my understanding that the truck came twice, i.e., Time 1 and Time 2, the city website (which is such a tangle that I can't figure out how to find this information on purpose; instead I have to sort of believe that the information and I are of the same lifeforce and then click things at random until, voila, etc., except HERE IT IS! HERE IT IS!) says instead that there is a Time 1, a Time 1B, and THEN a Time 2.
We here at 1303 are on City Loose Leaf Collection Route 44.
The daffodils are starting to come up, but since I planted seven thousand new bulbs in approximately the same spots as where the old bulbs are, it's difficult to say whether what I'm seeing are last year's effort, the year before, or the new. One of the years doesn't bloom so well, but I can't exactly remember or tell which one that is. The record-keeping around here is not excellent.
Coffee this morning on the porch and the dog out there and a little bit of raking — did I mention the leaf truck? — and some general if half-assed pansy bed maintenance. Today is a better day than yesterday. Yesterday I think maybe I had fallen off a cliff and into a hole with a sharp stick in the bottom of it. Today I have been outside on the porch. With the dog. Yesterday was Today 1. Today is Today 1B.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Loose Leaves.
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2 comments:
i think i fell in that same hole. but like a month ago. aftermath of something, months of something. maybe you would come to our house for porch sitting if it's, you know, seventy degrees or, if it ain't, then we can sit in the kitchen. it's now my favorite place to hang out. i've been dragging the old fancy living room chair from jb's grandparents' house into the kitchen to read and listen to the clock radio. maybe you would like to do that. sometimes i want to invite people over to sit in silence. not like folks couldn't talk. but just like, bring your five favorite current albums and i'll pick my five favorite and we'll play them back and forth and sit there. also, i have a postcard for you, from an old photograph i took when i lived in seattle when i was 19 and lived at the top of this rickety house and mt. rainier sat fat and right there out the window. i have to figure out how to turn the picture into a postcard. maybe i'll buy a kit. this is from kathryn walker.
just went digging around in your closet and found your response to the whole thing about Blue and, well, goddamn, kid, write more about music. k? k.
and i emailed you to the effect of yes i will in fact come sit in your kitchen.
got worried my 'write. please.' comment i made (last night) on your last post might have been taken one way and not the other. what i meant was, i drink coffee first thing and look at or for hometown. so. i miss it. no pressure, of course. it'tsjust that when you're up there my day gets more complicated.
let's sit and you tell me about this hole if you want. or let's sit in silence. folks could do that.
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