Thursday, May 11, 2006

Strangely quiet on the western front...

What? No pounding, radio blaring, guys yelling, saws whining? Weird. It sort of sprinkled this morning, but only enough to wet the grass, especially that nice long stuff in our yard. It's so green and lush-looking, I can't bear to mutilate it. Can no one else hear the silence of the lawn?
After my mother had lunch, we determined it was nice enough to go for one of her walks. She did a solid six blocks in one go, very good for her these days. We ran into a neighbor from across the street, we paid a call on the chickens, who were whining to get out of their coop, and taking dust baths. We talked about things of yore for mom; I often feel like a translator for her, as I am about the only one who remembers the answers to most of the queries about the past which she puts to me. Kind of a low key day for her.
Ran, worked out, watched the weather go to hell and back again.
Early to bed with Vollmann's Europe Central. It's starting to give me nightmares.

3 Comments:

Blogger windspike said...

I love this line: "Can no one else hear the silence of the lawn?"

Poetry. Blog on sister, blog on.

3:48 PM  
Blogger Neil Shakespeare said...

I don't think those are regular chickens you got out there. I think those are funny chickens. Maybe they're ducks. Dust ducks.

11:33 PM  
Blogger isabelita said...

heh. yeah, 'spike, it's quite poetic the way the grass keeps getting higher, too...

Neil, these are librul chickens, I guess. They also lay colored eggs, so they're in the rainbow tribe, too!

9:57 AM  

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