Sunday, March 10, 2013
So I puttered away what was left of the morning and a bit of early afternoon, before deciding to get offeth my hiney and rotate some dishes, get the week's waffles made. Those tasks centered me a bit, so I threw clothes on to go outside to our front "porch" (extremely loose term to describe the concrete slab covered with very worn indoor/outdoor carpet that we've placed our porch chairs on). Brought tea, a bit of knitting, and the latest issue of Taproot. Read an article or two, knitted a coupla stitches, but mainly just stopped, watched, and listened.
In Jenna's book, Made from Scratch, she describes the time when she was first making farming friends in Idaho. She'd go to their place for dinner and spend time afterward out on their back porch, just watching the animals. She called it Farm TV.
I have Nature TV, and it's more than adequate for now. We're having a stretch of warmer days, which is funny even to type, because when days warm up in Florida, it means back to shorts and shirt-sleeves, whereas here it means you can get away with capris until the breezes kick up, and sitting in shade too long means a sweater. I sat out there only an hour or so, as the air was starting to cool, and rather than come inside to layer up, I realized I was relaxed enough to come in a work for a piece, get a jump on the week, and justify zoning on some L&O repeats later.
Nature TV is amazing here. We're situated next door to a home or two, and a winding drive that leads to about a dozen nice-looking trailers. There's enough foliage between us where come summer, we'll forget they're there probably. But right now, you can see a mountain in the distance, and the grass is just starting to green up a pinch. You occasionally hear the noise of a car going by, and we're close enough to the nearby fire station to have our silence broken with sirens occasionally. But mainly there's this white noise of the winds and the brook in front of our apartment. The trees and shrubs shift in the breeze, and I find tears in my eyes more than once from the happiness of where I am. Then a rooster crows from somewhere down the road, and I laugh through my tears. Idyllic ridic! So damn home.
Image from here.