Lazy W Marie

Carpeing all the diems in semi-rural Oklahoma...xoxo

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Archives for January 6, 2012

Sensual Morning (Small Stone January 6th)

   Mid morning sun bathes everything downstairs in warmth and brightness, revealing both sparkling glass and dusty chair legs. I can smell fresh coffee, dish washing soap, and pine scented perfume, a Scentsy gift from my cousin Jen. Big, broad, healthy poinsettia leaves in red, green and creamy white beg to be touched. They look and feel like threadbare velvet. This reminds me to brush the horses, to kiss their velvet noses. Which reminds me to scoop more manure today, please and thank you. Which makes me wonder how many pairs of jeans I still have clean.
   At 8:23 a.m., anything is still possible. A good chunk of my daily tasks are already completed and nearly ten hours stand between us and a blessedly holiday-free weekend. This fact is both motivating and paralyzing.
   I wonder what the girls are doing this morning. 
How happy, healthy, sleepy, excited, nostalgic, 
romantic, silly, curious, angry, or ornery they might feel.
I hope they feel my love.
   Having a difficult time peeling myself away from the quiet, I decide to drain the last of my sweet, hot coffee from my favorite chipped rooster mug. See what kind of dent I can make in the day. Saying a quick prayer for everyone to return to Love, truth, and beauty, and to cling to those as much as possible. It’s now 8:34 a.m., time to launch.

Bird Watching (Small Stone January 5th)

   Sitting in our big east window this Thursday morning, our large macaw on my shoulder, I can’t help but notice the barrier between wild and tame. I can smell his powdery dander, feel his smooth feathers against my face, and hear his gentle mornings clucks and kisses. He mostly focuses on me and only occasionally notices the flurry of activity outdoors. On the other side of the smooth glass pane, cardinals, blue jays, crows, and so many other birds are in swarms today. Zooming through the abundant sunshine, hunting breakfast, swirling patterns of love and freedom in the clean January sky. 
   The smallest birds are like specks compared to our huge blue and yellow baby, but despite his size and despite his massive hook bill and sharp talons, he is the most vulnerable of them all.
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Not two minutes after writing this, 
Pacino had returned to his cage 
and a very small, fat, gray and brown bird 
crashed violently into the picture window. 
Pacino jumped muttered seriously, “Uh-oh. What happened?”

Apparently domesticity breeds some compassion.  

I thanked my lucky bird-Momma stars that he was safe in his gilded cage,
perhaps a little less vulnerable than I a moment ago believed.