Late Saturday Afternoons

I love this time of day probably more than any other...the time when the sun lowers in the sky preparing for the sunset, casting long golden streams of light between the branches of the trees. The shadows are long, but the sunlight is amber. Life seems to mellow out. Even the birds are calm. Women put supper on the stove to cook. Children play in the streets. People rush home from weekend activities to put their feet up on the front porch railing and sit back and listen to the world going by. It's time for a cup of hot coffee on the porch, talking about simple things, or smiling quietly in complete serenity. This is what I love about home.

Winterland

What is an outsider? I have read the words of dear souls...one very young, and one closer to my own sage age. And they both consider themselves outsiders. I think the key to the problem is to see oneself as in the essence of the solution, rather than on the fringe. Without the thinkers, and the poets, and the quiet souls who listen to the night, the world would be a rather dry and fruitless place. I would much prefer to count myself among the thinkers and the poets and the lovers than those who find their comfort in the crowd of average people who dress alike, and think alike, and move to the same music on a daily basis. Thoreau said it best, "If a man [or a woman] does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."

Friday Afternoon

I drove home from work through the pastures of grazing Holsteins, past the fields of cotton ripe and white and full on black, withered stems--a Southern snowfall--windows fully open and winds tossing my fine long hair in every direction, wanting to rid myself of the toxic atmosphere of the day. If I could have, upon arriving home, I would have dived into a pool of chilling water and swum and swum until I was breathless and clear of it all. I crave the beach where I can wade in the swirling waters at my feet and feel salty breezes clearing my soul of the things I deal with on a daily basis in my job. I am a teacher.