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Morning Song by Darlinggirl
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Words and magic
May 21, 2020

If fatigue wasn’t having its way with me, I would not be so shiftless and finish the rest of Sigmund Freud’s quote and maybe tomorrow I will.

Two little things to remember, the whale just off our beach, as he rolled over to scratch his back on the huge, jagged rocks revealed by the tide’s ebb. We got two photos, just on Himself’s phone but considering how surprised we were and how he and I both just froze as soon as we heard him and oh my...did we hear him.

Words escape me; ohhhh, the size of such a magnificent creature. And that slapping tail, raised up, posed, glistening, showers of water droplets everywhere...our wide-open eyes and dropped jaws, awe taking our breath away.

Earlier, as I stood under the boughs of the tall lilac to just breathe in essence of lilacs, the scent from hundreds of heavy, drooping purple blooms, towering over my head, staring out over the sapphire blue sea, I had heard the sounds of a mother and baby whale heading out to the end of the channel, a few glimpses of their slick, black bodies...the power of them!

And then this evening, much closer, not really thinking that another be would be passing by, much slower, taking his time to use the rocks as his own, personal back scratcher, just off the beach. Practically at our feet!

Now when I came out here, still not full dark even at a bit past ten, a few soft sounds drifting from the farms, sheep and a few cattle lowing, geese fussing about something as a column of them shoots across the sky; a beautiful night unfolding around me, sparkling as champagne and soon cool enough to strike a match to the one-match fire waiting for me inside, I think so many thoughts.

A tired brain and even more tired body does that to one’s soul. There is such a sense of hushed waiting, the energy of this part of the world is so different than the Bluegrass.

BigBrotherInLaw was over today, the two brothers did guy things around and about our gates and wandered up to the house often to get refills of the huge pot of coffee I made for them. I heard them speak about the scents of lilacs and freshly ground (Salt Spring Island Coffee) and sea and just opened roses.

Before I headed off to the LittleHouse and the “Classroom” where I took up where the girls’ Zoom Day School left off, I overheard several calls and voices talking about buying new gates and all the hinges and posts and engineer-like jargon then Parksville, then Qualicum.

So, the brothers are off tomorrow to various Farm Supply and Hardware emporiums early tomorrow and I find myself, as I sit out here on our double porch swing, watching the faint breeze rock my hanging baskets of petunias, violas, ivy and the new blooms on the potted Mock Oranges, just a whisper of orange blossoms wafting over me...

...just a bit sulky and pouty because they won’t ask me to go with them. I would dearly love to climb up in a pick-up truck and hit the ferries and head up the Coast Road to search for the right gates, hit hardware and supply places, consult with contractors and drive all over.

In a big, honest pick-up to boot. Earlier, I watched my husband walk down to the fence and marveled at those curls peeking out from his Washington Nats baseball hat. Very much a was a gift after all. Purchased at a game.

All those years in our pick-ups, driving all over Texas, then another truck, driving all over...Oklahoma. Iowa. Chicago. Illinois. Wisconsin. Best of all, Kentucky.

All those trips in BabBoyII’s truck. In BabyBoyI’s. Our neighbour in La Grange that took me to the store or run errands. The big, obscenely expensive Ford a friend’s husband took me to various ICU in two different hospitals during critical crisis after crisis with my husband. The old Chevy owned by the sweet friend of ours from Grayson County.

Casting back in my mind, my last time in a pick-up was when BigBrotherInLaw took me to Victoria for some of my Immigration appointments and attorney meetings. Himself was too sick to go, and I was worried sick, so that trip is a blur and we barely made it to the last ferry.

This past year has kept me tied to the house and all trips have been medical and legal.

All those friends back home, that dropped by to just visit me, to see how I am or if I wanted to just ride along or go to Kroger’s or just to get a Blizzard at the La Grange Dairy Queen...

Plenty of ravens around here to quote, “Nevermore.” Never thought my days of riding around in trucks would cone to a crashing stop.

I have really noticed that BBIL and Bonnie, with their daughter and little grandson moving in for Isolation has worn them both out. Even as much as they love having them there and spending so much time caring for their grandson as his mum works, the non-stop care of an almost three year old little boy has been tiring. They always had live-in help and Bonnie returned to work when their girls were three months old so being full-time care-givers of a very active, non-stop, little boy has been a bit of a shock. As he joked, earlier, it has been over forty years since he had a toddler in his home! He was a lot younger then, he growled, and went to the office every day and traveled.

The two brothers were talking right under the LittleHouse front windows and had no idea class had started and every word floated right in the slightly opened windows.

The girls had taken a bathroom break and so I just sat there, not wanting to make my presence know or interrupt them.

However, I could see and hear them...

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