| Napped |
[Nov. 23rd, 2014|07:24 pm]
rejectomorph
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One would think that on a Sunday when I didn't have to go shopping I'd have plenty of time to write a journal entry. Well, not when I watch two and half movies and then sleep through one and a half more. The one I then woke up for didn't interest me, so I've finally gotten around to the Internets. At least the computer got a nice long rest. The television might burn out at any time, though.
The day was less sunny than expected, though the clouds brought no rain. The sun ought to be out tomorrow, though. If the leaves covering the back lawn dry out enough by afternoon I might rake some of them. Today they were still much to soggy. Tomorrow is trash day, and I've got one yard waste wheelie bin that has nothing in it yet. If I don't fill it the leaves are going to get way ahead of me.
I didn't check for walnuts yesterday because it was raining, nor today because I was glued to the television (and the couch.) I'll check tomorrow, but I don't expect to find any that are out of their husks. Their failure to shed them made this year's crop a puny one. Not that I need them, as the stores will soon have sales on bags of shelled walnut pieces, so I won't have to crack them myself and end up with sharp bits of shell all over the floor which I then step on with bare feet. Most of what I spend on walnuts I will save in bandages and antiseptic.
But now for dinner. The chilly night suggests soup again. I might put some olives in it, just because I can.
Sunday Verse
The Moor
by R. S. Thomas
It was like a church to me.
I entered it on soft foot.
Breath held like a cap in the hand.
It was quiet.
What God was there made himself felt,
Not listened to, in clean colours
That brought a moistening of the eye,
In movement of the wind over grass.
There were no prayers said. But stillness
Of the heart's passions - that was praise
Enough; and the mind's cession
Of its kingdom. I walked on,
Simple and poor, while the air crumbled
And broke on me generously as bread.
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