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ANOTHER DAY OF RAINY-NESS. Yesterday as it was literally pouring, the sun peeped out long enough to give me a quick view of a fleeting rainbow. It was very wide, almost discernible on the hilltop line, and faded within seconds. It appeared to end in the meadow outside my gate, which made me actually see "the end of the rainbow". There was not a visible pot of gold, however.
No complaints from me over this extended moisture, except that it may well be charged with radioactive particles from the infamous Japanese disaster, as the dryness of summer will come soon enough. Besides, the pelting of raindrops upon the rooftop of my yurt sound wonderful, as long as the soggy ground does not loosen the roots of the giant oak which looms high above this canvas concoction that is my bedroom.
That's all I have to say about this little subject. It's ROYAL WEDDING week, and that will be another literary ditty altogether.
SNOW BOMBS DROPPING onto the yurt have me OUTTA THERE at 3:00 A.M.
At first, Cheyana, my loyal poodle, cuddled up really close after the first hour of the wet snow bombs dropping out of the overhanging old oak and onto the canvas roof of my yurt over my bed. It was rather unnerving, but I COULD stay sleepy, especially with my large red dawg right beside me.
But then...the snow bombs got heavier and had way more mass and were dropping more rapidly. We went to the door, I had to reassure my dog that the yurt was not being invaded by wild animals, which the previous weeks, it had been....skunks, raccoons, other members of rodentia scurrying beneath our sleeping quarters, thus giving us both sleepless nights. Cheyana would be up pacing the perimeters of the yurt hearing sounds I did not. But TONIGHT, a snow bomb would drop so loudly, she'd jump up and look at me, I could read the words in her eyes: "Mom, WTF is going on here!!!!?"
Finally, enough was enough. It was sounding so deadly, that neither of us could take it anymore and here I am, safely at my computer, within the sector of the cabin that did not have the old oak looming over it. The only word/idea I could think of to have it okay to be up at this unghadly hour was BLOG.
So....I've done the healthy good girl thing: I made some instant organic oats, actually ground some flax seed in my new coffee grinder that I'm using just for this new and improved purpose (we need our fiber!) .....and then made some coffee. It beckons me with it's heavenly aroma this moment as I type. Do they still call it "type" - I can't say KEY, that sounds weird....do comment this blog, fans, and let me know if TYPE is still literarily correct. Yes, I know 'literarily' is NOT correct, but it gets the point across and it's to f*#$@* early to give a rat's azz.
My coffee beckons and oh, yes, I almost forgot: even BEFORE I ingested my healthy sustenance, I found, photoshopped and resized my yurt images for your viewing pleasure. Au Revoir......
P.S. It is so loud in that yurt right now, that I wish I could give you the sounds to accompany this body of work. I will share the story and photos this spring (or sooner) when this deadly oak tree gets cut and craned out of here by my trusty professional, George Basso. Fotos of his fine ass hanging in the trees with his massive chainsaw will accompany that blog......stay tuned......where the fun NEVER ends!
