A lemon in the sun
Apr. 14th, 2002 05:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gurdonarkThe man at the flea market hand-squeezed the lemons into the
ice, and then poured in a cherry and cherry juice combo.
Then he covered the whole thing with a water (perhaps sugared),
for the most divine hand-made cherry lemonade one could imagine.
A small cloud passed across my horizon when I read the
bumper stickers on sale at the "confederate" themed stand,
in which at least one ware went beyond mere commonplace offense into really harsh ridiculous offensivenes, but I soon forgot
this in the haze of airplanes made of soda cans, roasted turkey legs, puppies at play, and sundry fleamarketables of every description. Only one thing caught my eye--an original watercolor of a 3 masted old time sailing ship, simple, a bit quaint, but the humongous price of 8 dollars was 3 too high in flea market parlance, and I was not in my best Tijuana-bargaining state of mind.
I then began driving the country highways towards New Hope.
My Dallas suburb is quite to the north of Dallas, so really rural places are but a few moments away. New Hope was a very small town with some quaint homes and some other homes, and then near Altoga I saw a "historical marker" by a little country Methodist church, which marker proclaimed the church's "extreme age" of 110 years, which is practically ante-diluvian in north Texas parlance.
When I was wandering past cows and flowing creeks and little scraggle/stands of tress and workers fixing wires, I saw the
signs pointing the way to the Park Hill Prairie. Although I'd spent Saturday morning there, and was really wandering without meaning to come up on its "back entrance", I turned down the gravel roads, past a faded wood community center, and soon found myself back in the prairie park. One famly was fishing, another couple was hiking, but otherwise I was alone.
What a change a day makes in spring. Yesterday a handful of flowers had opened. Today the fields were a mass of yellow and purple. I used my little Bushnell 4 x 30 binoculars for virtually the only things they are good for, close ups on flowers,
focus in on butterflies, and the attempt to see a bird or two better than I could. Birdsong was everywhere; a cardinal had a particularly noticeable song. I thought to myself that it is a bit of a shame that I know few flower names and few bird names,
but I don't think I enjoyed the flowers any less.
On the way back, I stopped by the Dollar Store and picked up some seeds and a large jar for a new terrarium; two sci fi books to keep my imagination alive; and a 25 cent candy bar as an act of petty dietetic immorality.
I stopped by the Princeton Flea Market as well. This is a "real" flea market--all the items are a dime or a dollar or ten dollars.
Numerous used aquariums caught me eye...I daydream lately about a tank of red platies swimming through plastic plants...
I've got terraria to build now, though...let's hope that the marigolds are not as leggy in wardian case as the pansies of a few years ago....
ice, and then poured in a cherry and cherry juice combo.
Then he covered the whole thing with a water (perhaps sugared),
for the most divine hand-made cherry lemonade one could imagine.
A small cloud passed across my horizon when I read the
bumper stickers on sale at the "confederate" themed stand,
in which at least one ware went beyond mere commonplace offense into really harsh ridiculous offensivenes, but I soon forgot
this in the haze of airplanes made of soda cans, roasted turkey legs, puppies at play, and sundry fleamarketables of every description. Only one thing caught my eye--an original watercolor of a 3 masted old time sailing ship, simple, a bit quaint, but the humongous price of 8 dollars was 3 too high in flea market parlance, and I was not in my best Tijuana-bargaining state of mind.
I then began driving the country highways towards New Hope.
My Dallas suburb is quite to the north of Dallas, so really rural places are but a few moments away. New Hope was a very small town with some quaint homes and some other homes, and then near Altoga I saw a "historical marker" by a little country Methodist church, which marker proclaimed the church's "extreme age" of 110 years, which is practically ante-diluvian in north Texas parlance.
When I was wandering past cows and flowing creeks and little scraggle/stands of tress and workers fixing wires, I saw the
signs pointing the way to the Park Hill Prairie. Although I'd spent Saturday morning there, and was really wandering without meaning to come up on its "back entrance", I turned down the gravel roads, past a faded wood community center, and soon found myself back in the prairie park. One famly was fishing, another couple was hiking, but otherwise I was alone.
What a change a day makes in spring. Yesterday a handful of flowers had opened. Today the fields were a mass of yellow and purple. I used my little Bushnell 4 x 30 binoculars for virtually the only things they are good for, close ups on flowers,
focus in on butterflies, and the attempt to see a bird or two better than I could. Birdsong was everywhere; a cardinal had a particularly noticeable song. I thought to myself that it is a bit of a shame that I know few flower names and few bird names,
but I don't think I enjoyed the flowers any less.
On the way back, I stopped by the Dollar Store and picked up some seeds and a large jar for a new terrarium; two sci fi books to keep my imagination alive; and a 25 cent candy bar as an act of petty dietetic immorality.
I stopped by the Princeton Flea Market as well. This is a "real" flea market--all the items are a dime or a dollar or ten dollars.
Numerous used aquariums caught me eye...I daydream lately about a tank of red platies swimming through plastic plants...
I've got terraria to build now, though...let's hope that the marigolds are not as leggy in wardian case as the pansies of a few years ago....
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no subject
Date: 2002-04-15 02:58 am (UTC)Do you think driving is like being a cow? I was thinking, a little obscurely, of Nietzsche's envy for the cow's continual forgetting, for being in the moment without need for distanced self-reflection.
Well ... you mentioned driving and cows ... and I need occasionally to clutch at straws ...
driving like a mad cow
experiencing what's around me with an immediacy. However, I suppose I fail the Nietzchean standard, because I consistently
fail the test of avoiding distanced self-reflection. Instead,
I love the way in which tnings "come together" for me when I have extended times, without pressure, to think about them.
I wonder, though, if all the driving one does in a city
makes one more immune to things nearby. I grew up in a
town of 2000 people. I always found the town to contain
more than enough things to do to be the center of my childhood universe. Now, when I pass a country town of 2,000 it seems hopelessly small. The ability to drive has put a distance component into the enjoyment of things, and I don't think that's a good thing.