This is how every morning begins. A big cuppa Joe. I bought this mug, and five others like it, back in the '00s. I love the mug because it is thick, so it keeps the coffee hot longer. I like the throwback feel of its heft. It is big. It holds a lot of coffee.
Now why, you wonder, would he show us a picture of his coffee cup? But you can guess the answer. Isolation photography. I have a new camera and I want to use it. This was taken with the Velvet macro lens. It makes slight swirly patterns at the edges of the frame. Look at the glow on the handle. The lens is kind of fun.
After coffee and the papers and writing here, I take some exercise, as the Victorians used to say. On my walk around the 'hood, I see scenes such as this. I enjoy the "Leave It to Beaver" vibe of the place.
Here are the morning shadows on my own house, once again with the new camera and the swirly lens. When the sky is clear, the light has been magnificent this month. I get enamored with the shadows. As you can see, I don't own one of the neighborhood mansions. I live in a little bungalow in a pretty part of town. The neighbors, I'm sure, wonder why I am so dirt poor.
I have to fight the temptation to put all the pictures I took the past two days in this post or I will not have any for the days to come. I am wishing, however, to evidence the mundanity that I call my life. It is not a bad thing. I've had it worse. And many, many do. We all may before it is all over. The Time of Covid, I mean. Things could get a lot worse.
My travel/art buddy (I need to lend him a name), retired at the same time as I. We each had our travel plans, a plan for enjoying retirement and the small fruits of our labor. He has been walking ten and eleven miles a day. He sees even more than I. But that is the only travel we are getting now. I don't think we will be going anywhere for awhile. He might go before I. I've been more paranoid than he. I still haven't gone to a grocery store. I have my liquor delivered. I haven't even fueled the car for over a month. Neighborhood walks and social distancing happy hour with my mother are, in the common parlance, all I got.
Oh, what the hell, one more. This was Ili's potting place. See the watering can on the ground. That's where it has been for months. I'm afraid my place has become something of a museum. Things can stay in one place for years when I am on my own. I'll find bobbie pins in drawers that were someone's twenty years ago. I think some of the towels in the kitchen have been hanging there untouched since Christmas. I haven't been taking care of the potted plants very well. Gardening was her thing. I liked it and would help or do what I was told, but otherwise I don't think about it. Eventually, I will have to plant new plants. Part of the cycle of life, I guess.
Well, now. . . I reckon that is it. The sky is clear and the light is bright and the shadows are deep and the air is fair. I need to get out into it. These days won't last much longer. The humidity will grow and the air will become heavy and the skies will fill with clouds. And that is when the travel bug will really hit me. I planned on escaping the southern summer weather after retirement. It doesn't seem that is likely any time soon.
Holy shit. I forgot it's April Fool's Day.
What?!? Wait again. I've lost a month somehow. I am truly in a fog. Is it May Day? May Pole and Unions and all of that? What?
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