Coffee: Cafe Pajaro, Extra Dark, Trader Joe’s Brand; Tastes watered down though I didn’t change the measurements. I’ve been drinking the same coffee for a week so maybe I’m getting too familiar with it. We all rush to watch the cherry blossoms on the first week of Spring; no-one pays attention to weeks two and three.
I took a walk. The sun was out and it was hot, a little humid. Pollen had everything turning yellow and green. I’ve made this walk many times since coming to live in Cary. I leave the apartments, cross the Parkway, snake through a hilly suburban road still raptured by the ’50’s, then cut to a tiny paved path that hugs the backyards of more picket-fence houses. There’s woods and a stream. At times, you forget you’re walking below a bunch of windows.
I stopped to take a picture of some pretty flowers by the Hindu temple. There was loud electronic music and girls in colorful clothes. A dad left his SUV running so that the AC would kiss him every time he came back for a round of boxes – and there were so many boxes. I watched the scene play out from the cover of purple flowers and finally guessed it must be a birthday party. Lots of ripe balloons, pre-teens, an optimistic girl walking her dog. It was a nice bit of community. I’m thankful for the tree that bought me time to watch.
Tar Baby, Toni Morrison
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“If lightning is the anger of the gods, then the gods are concerned mostly about trees.” – Lao Tzu