[At least one of my little envelopes with mountain thoughts was torn asunder and some of the contents lost to the winds! Oh sigh. But, now I wonder who will find the cherokee tear and buckeye - where were they lost and who said, "hey, what's this?" picked them up and put them in their pocket? ]
(Photo taken from my porch)Last night the coons came, not caring of the winds and rain. There were three of them: two small ones and then Boo Boo. Boo Boo, named just because one night I just called out "oh boo...hey boo boo~!" and it stuck, is an old fat raccoon with lots of gray. I love her. Two young ones were perched on the squirrel feeders - (imagine it is like we are in a treehouse where we are level with the middle or near-tops of some trees, not the ground). Boo Boo was on the railing. Soon, we heard the squabbling and laughed when we saw Boo Boo on the feeder - she'd chased those young coons away and took up her spot!
As I was sitting here, I leaned back and the sun caught my left eye...this time of year, the sun is over the far right ridge, and it will make its way back to the left. From where I sit, If I look slightly to the left, I can see those distant mountains out my window. I am in a leather chair with the laptop perched. My coffee cup filled with Deep Creek Blend, black, is on a coaster that sits upon a small table that looks like stacked books. There is a pen/pencil holder that looks like books. There are shelves full of books and rocks and photos and pieces of small bark and interesting vases or vessels and some small gifts from friends, and et-cetera.
I have a soft throw over my legs. Fat old labrador Jake is snoring. There is a rug with natural fibers we bought at World Market and on top of the rug is a cow-hided ottoman. There are books and books and more books. Our ceiling fan is rustic, so is the small lamp on the book table. There are many things I love in this room where I work. I am in here many hours. There are bookmarks - for I love bookmarks. Another small table that looks like a book. I see out the door a piece of the hallway leading to the rest of the little log house, and a framed piece of art we bought long ago that is filled with jazz images. If I turn my head farther to the left, I see the ridge across the cove. But closer, I see two of the rocking chairs on our porch right outside the two windows. While typing this, Sun has already moved away from my eye but still leaves its glance on the porch, and on the wood window blinds.
What do you see as your write this morning? What surrounds you?
