Nothin' Doin' - Into The Out

October 11, 2018  •  Leave a Comment

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October 11, 2018

Nothin' Doin' -  Into The Out

Having rain everyday, lately, is a completely different atmosphere from a high elevation Arizona White Mountain experience. In AZ one looked out a window, scanned the sky for clouds for the morning venture into the Out, and surmised the possibilities. Early morning clouds portend a great shot of an always unique sunrise.

That was not always the case, even in northeastern AZ. There were hits and misses. Though chances were tilted in favor of a seriously expressive sunrise. But Nature, like humans, is distinctively ubiquitous. One never knows what was going to happen until the scene was set and ready.

So too, Wisconsin, though the scene is overcast more than sunshined, and having a morning clear and blue is the exception, not the rule. After 24 years of AZ, it is an adjustment.

Plus, desire for that unrepeatable sunrise has lessened. Having done it for so long there is less wind in the lungs, less fire in the mind, and a more sedate attitude of calm, rest, and comfortable quiet. There is much contemplation in a morning filled with silence. A silence strokes the mind, easing the sound of covers thrown off and bare feet touching a rug, soft and comforting. There is a less stirring desire for an outward-bound stroll.

Standing in the loft and looking up through a skylight, a patch of blue creases a smile. Hearing the wind whisk through the bushes, waving tall grass in vacant lots soon populated with quickly built and occupied dwellings, evokes a different perspective. A new reality has arrived.

Coffee cup in hand one stands at the patio door looking out, looking for birds. The lady jogger trots up the slight incline and curve of Kimball Lane. Her ponytail hair bounces back and forth like an ersatz pendulum quickly pacing her time. 

Canadian honkers are heard though not seen. Their plaintive bleats echo in the wind, fading quickly into gushes of bursting sound as the wind pushes across the building. The howl wind erupts and subsides in seizure-like gasps, settling into a slower constant.

The White Mountains also had its wind. Mostly in Spring and early summer. Sometimes one wanted a huge hollowed-out ponderosa pine to step inside and close a door, sealing out that constant yowl. When windless days arrived, joy opened its face and smiled as broad and as bright as a warm spring sunrise.

During those windy months, dust devils made their yearly appearance. Oh, such fun to watch these Minnie tornados dancing across open meadows. They looked like whirl wind dancers, dancing to some secret music in a feverish twisting jumble, picking up leaves, twigs, sandy dust, plastic bags, and anything else not fastened tightly to some anchor. They were not to be trifled with, as their brisk blowing twister movements were quite powerful and unpredictable.

What was once taken for granted as an annual occurrence, and therefore, not thought about, becomes a sweet memory. Time, in all its movement, has segments, snippets, short moments, held in the mind, played back as if a film short, as one recalls these impressions. Now there are new ones, waiting for a future.

To be continued...

Thank you. I am grateful for your visit.

 


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