Early this morning, two moments of fleeting beauty, almost as ‘mindless’ as you get during a forty-five minute session of swimming laps. ‘Mindless’ meaning almost clear of mind chatter. The first, a brief look back at the room in which I’d slept, window open for some cool night air. The open window formed a frame to the first flowering geranium in the flower box (a deep pink), foliage from the top of the black locust behind it and, peeking through the branches, a bit of the old brick and beam wall of the medieval house across the way. If mind chatter had set in, the view would have turned into something ‘cute’ such as a post card.
Except it didn’t because I climbed the stairs and went outside with the dog. Where the morning sky was as fascinating as any view brought back from distant planets, with pale blue sky behind long streaks of gleaming pink, gold and copper clouds. The brain didn’t do much chattering there either. The eyes were pleased and took their fill. Apart from the birds, the only sound was that of the river pouring over the lip of the weir.
And now for the day, the paperwork, the people, the good news, the not-so good, the set-backs, the opportunities. On the way to my medical appointment yesterday, I walked by the house that burned the other day and the one next door where the roof beams caught on fire too and collapsed the ceiling into the bedroom of the principal from one of the local schools. She’s now temporarily re-settled with her three children across the way from where I live. That’s the thing with a small town: whether you get the news from the local paper or through word of mouth, chances are you’ll know the people involved in the good, the bad and everything else in between.