I Got Loads Done On Tuesday
Trouble is, I needed to do “x” things, but only had time for “x-1” things and writing this blog ended being the one I couldn’t get around to. See, it’s actually Wednesday afternoon and a dreary one at that, but the kind photographers like because colors become more vibrant. The tree across the street, for example, is bright as fire, looking for all the world like an elephant on its back shooting fireworks out of its upright gray trunk.
Days like this are made for kids to play in the attic. When I lived with my grandparents, we had a front attic, somewhat improved and a little bit furnished, enough to sleep, and a back attic with trunks and suitcases, some sort of box with an NRA (National Recovery Act, “We Do Our Part” blue eagle) sticker on it, and other odds and ends along with nooks and crannies.
Or the cellar. We had a coal bin there, along with a potting section for the large flower garden along the back edge of the property. I don’t remember what else, but that part of the place had its own peculiar smell and a slanted door at the top of the steps led out to the backyard and some tall flora (sunflowers?) as well as black-eyed susans. It, too, was a mysterious place on unsettled weather days.
There was always the front porch, a real covered spot where we could sit in the rocking chairs even during a rainstorm and watch the action. I recall it being nice-to-exciting sitting there in a drenching rain, dry as can be, watching the manhole cover bubbling up. For some reason, that was very exciting and the sign of a big downpour.
Days like this are made for kids to play in the attic. When I lived with my grandparents, we had a front attic, somewhat improved and a little bit furnished, enough to sleep, and a back attic with trunks and suitcases, some sort of box with an NRA (National Recovery Act, “We Do Our Part” blue eagle) sticker on it, and other odds and ends along with nooks and crannies.
Or the cellar. We had a coal bin there, along with a potting section for the large flower garden along the back edge of the property. I don’t remember what else, but that part of the place had its own peculiar smell and a slanted door at the top of the steps led out to the backyard and some tall flora (sunflowers?) as well as black-eyed susans. It, too, was a mysterious place on unsettled weather days.
There was always the front porch, a real covered spot where we could sit in the rocking chairs even during a rainstorm and watch the action. I recall it being nice-to-exciting sitting there in a drenching rain, dry as can be, watching the manhole cover bubbling up. For some reason, that was very exciting and the sign of a big downpour.
posted by Tom Carten at 2:38 PM
2 Comments:
"The tree across the street, for example, is bright as fire, looking for all the world like an elephant on its back shooting fireworks out of its upright gray trunk."
Ok, that my friend, is a sure sign of insanity. Do you always see upside down elephants wiggling on their backsides outside your window?
It's called "imagination," and woe to the person who can't see other than the mechanics of what's there.
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