And Then a Sunday Evening Welcomes a Monday Morning. Phew. This is Definitely a Lesson in Time Appreciation.

Another fire. 

The day was spent doing morning errands and was followed by an afternoon rearranging perennials and expanding the garden (moving giant rocks, digging out grass, hustling hard for those dang flowers). By 2030, there will be no lawn left in the backyard. It will be an English garden, for sure.

I came downstairs from writing at bout 8 p.m. and Chitunga was putting together the flames. He said, “I figured you'd join me,” and he was right. On a warm day followed by a cool night, I am a sucker for a good fire. It reminds me of home and sitting out back with my father. A fire is always nice to end the day. 

Actually, while the flames went ablaze I was thinking about Denmark and how right now in southern Connecticut it feels like the Nordic weather of Copenhagen. We always went through multiple layers in one day, from morning sweaters, to mid-day t-shirts, to evening hoodies, and back to evening sweaters. Evening fires were the best, although to reach evening, we had to wait until 2 a.m. Sigh. One of my life goals was to have Chitunga come with me to Denmark to meet Lars. We missed that opportunity.

My colleague Django Paris posted about the loudness of birds this Spring, and I immediately thought about the magpies of Denmark that were quiet only between 2 a.m. and 5 a.m., when the sun finally set at that time of year. I think birds aren't louder. I think it is because humans are quieter. We are able to listen more and I imagine the birds are always at the decibel they are right now; it’s just that we can’t hear them because of traffic and other nonsense. Let them be obnoxious (even if they wake me at 5 a.m.). 

Truth here: Chitunga and Edem went to bed early, but I wanted to see the fire die out. So, I typed today’s post with my thumbs on my I-phone, and watched the fire dim. Another truth, as the fire died at 11 p.m., I noticed both boys peeped out of their windows to see if I was still out there. The blinds are a revealing creature. 

It was quiet. All I heard were the wind chimes and the crackling of fire. It was pitch black, so I saw when they split their blinds like peeping Toms. 

This is probably bad to admit, but I think Maude (the Earth as a result of God and Mother Nature) prefers quarantine so she can heal. I can live without the crap I tend to buy, and although I miss some human connectivity (especially restaurants), I would be good with social distancing and online communication from this point forth, especially as I watch the birds, bugs, skylines, and even ocean- fronts dance with healing celebration. 

It make suck for human beings, but it sure does seem like a panacea for the natural world.