This morning the sky was mostly dense with gray clouds, a dark and cool start to the day, mild breeze from the West West North. The Caretaker never made it to the dump yesterday, he spent the day on the Island.
Yesterday near sundown:
8/18/10:
The Caretaker was reminded of his own fabricated holiday from back in 2009 while on the phone the other night with his Florida connection. Many of you know nothing of this because the Caretaker doesn't have your mailing address which is probably a good thing if you don't like receiving cockamamie cards and postcards in the mail. So, here in digital form is the photo and text from the holiday card that the Caretaker sent out in 2009:
The Great Story of the
Great Holiday:
Christ-Wanz-Adan-Ukkah
And its Great Mascot
Grand Pooh-Bah.
No one really knows when the holiday started, and nobody really cares. Nobody seems to know where Grand Pooh-Bah comes from, some say it’s a cold and running waterless place, but nobody cares about that either. What people do know is that everybody looks forward to the holiday and the arrival of Grand Pooh-Bah. When’s the holiday? Whenever Grand Pooh-Bah decides to show up on your doorstep and hang around for a while. Sometimes the celebration is rather short (but always long enough to have a meal), sometimes it can go on for days (if Grand Pooh-Bah likes your digs the holiday will last for quite sometime).
Some say if you put out an open bottle of Gin on your front doorstep you can speed up the arrival of Grand Pooh-Bah, others say there is no rhyme or reason to his schedule. Whenever he does arrive he always brings joy and happiness to all of those who welcome him into their home--sometimes upon arrival, other times upon departing.
Christ-Wanz-Adan-Ukkah, a holiday we can all rally around, may you enjoy the spirit brought into your home as only Grand Pooh-Bah can bring.
Have a
"Merry Happy
Christ-Wanz-Adan-Ukkah
All the Year Through!
May
Grand Pooh-Bah
Bless Your Home Soon!”
(P.S. That’s not a sack full of gifts, it’s Grand Pooh-Bah’s laundry. What would you expect him to bring, toys? Nah, just dirty laundry and an appetite.)
Unfortunately there doesn't seem to be a way to hold the center formating on the blog, everything that is off to the left was originally presented centered on the card stock. If the Caretaker gets his act together before leaving the Island he'll come up with some other photo for this year's celebration of Christ-Wanz-Adan-Ukkah and send off some cards for the year.
Given the length of the post for 2007 that follows the Caretaker is leaving off for now. Like a Lake George Chicken with its head cut off...
Before there was the blog the Caretaker sent out posts via e-mail, the following is from the Caretaker's second winter on the Island:
IIR 7/20/07
The Caretaker changed his mind and his schedule so since he had some time this morning he decided to send off an IIR with a photo.
Today's photo was taken from the Island, it is of a firework while the camera was moving. At some point he'll probably mess around with it in Photoshop and come up with something.
IIR 7/20/07
The Caretaker changed his mind and his schedule so since he had some time this morning he decided to send off an IIR with a photo.
Today's photo was taken from the Island, it is of a firework while the camera was moving. At some point he'll probably mess around with it in Photoshop and come up with something.
In addition to the photo, attached to this e-mail is a word document. It's a little more than 5 pages, double spaced, to include it in the body of the e-mail would be a little excessive. The Caretaker has been meaning to send this out for a long time. Back in April, the Caretaker was asked to do a reading at the Bolton Library for the "Friend's of the Bolton Library". He was offered the choice of reading someone else's work or reading something of his own. The reading was scheduled for midweek sometime around the opening weekend of the Island. Because of this the Caretaker was a little hesitant to accept the invitation, but eventually he decided to do so, he figured it had been a long while since he had done any creative writing of this type so why not use this as motivation? The reading went well for the most part, he got the laughs were he expected them, he should have read at a touch slower pace, but it wasn't too rushed. Anyway, the Caretaker would like to thank the following people for reading the work and providing feed back on one of the early drafts:
Ms. B.G., Mr. B. H., Mr. Clint Hobart, Mr. D. M., and Mr. John J. Kaminski.
All of your comments were most helpful.
To the rest who didn't have the time to read the material back then, now is your chance to do so.
The Caretaker would also like to thank K. V. for extending the invitation to participate in the reading at the library.
The work since the reading has gone through a few more drafts and could still use more "tweeking" (there are still some things he doesn't like) but the Caretaker doesn't have time do that right now, he's too busy coming up with cockamamie t-shirt designs.
Anyway, hope you enjoy the photo and the "Word Document".
Have a good weekend.
--The Caretaker
P.S. The text document was written to be read aloud so the punctuation may seem a little off and excessive. Someday, when he goes to write the book, he'll change it.
NOTE: Text from Word Document follows below:
“Spring, a Time for the Senses”
by
Jeffrey Dallas Moore
Spring, like all the seasons, is a time for the senses, but none more so, than Spring. On a cloudless and windless day, the Lake, as still as it can be, the late morning sun softly warms the ground, lightly heating up the cover of fallen pine needles that have been collecting since Autumn. The sun’s gentle warmth, causes the pine needles, combined with the evaporating moisture from the soil, to give off a warm, butterscotch like aroma. In the early Spring, when the air is still comfortably cool, breathing in this buttery sweet scent, always warms the lungs
Spring is a time of many things, one of which is subtleties. Take an early Spring morning, upon some ground is but a clear patch, a few hours later you turn around, and what was once clear, is now pebbled in flower sprouts. The elements of weather have come together to provide the proper conditions for these aspiring flowers to, well, what else? spring, out of the ground.
Spring, like all the seasons, is made up of many moments--one in particular is what I call the time of Christmas Color. Christmas Color appears upon the mountains, just before the new buds on the deciduous trees have gone from red to green. All along the mountainsides of the Lake the contrast of this new born red against the age old conifers’ green can be seen at its peak for usually just a day, and on that day, the contrast of red and green shows the most late in the afternoon when the sun is low on the horizon just before any notions of setting. In comparison to the fiery splashes of color in Autumn, this Spring time color is rather subtle indeed; however, in comparison to the mountainsides, uncloaked of leaves through Winter, exposing the grays and browns of their topography, the contrast of deciduous red and conifer green upon the trees is a vibrance to see.
Eventually, this colored moment is followed by another. As the newborn buds fade from red, eventually they are replaced with Spring baby green. As these first thoughts of leaves start to emerge, lush green begins to creep from shoreline to mountaintops, slowly, filling in, all the gaps between the evergreens.
Spring is also a time of surprises, some good, some bad, and some in between. A good surprise this Spring was the Loons. The Loons themselves were no surprise, for it is well known that they do come through most every Spring, but I had not expected them to have such a long layover—at least, that is in comparison to my limited experience here on the Lake in Springtime. Regardless of the true averages, the Loons’ passing here on the Lake could never be long enough. Quiet is the night, shattered by one Loon’s call to another. Thick silence between, then broken by response--stars go forgotten, waiting for the rupture of a third call, feels as though it may never come. There’s just something about that call, both haunting and comforting.
A Springtime surprise that was in between both good and bad was the arrival to the Island of two Short-shined Hawks. At least I believe they are Short-shined, they could be Kestrels, or maybe even Merlins—I don’t know. Whatever they are, the one thing I do know, is that they are annoying. It didn’t start out that way, at first I was rather pleased to have some birds of prey inhabiting the Island. Such was my enthusiasm that I made an audio recording of their call and took some photos, then sent it all off to a “birder” friend of mine for classification. The best we cold come up with was any one of the three aforementioned breeds. In fairness to my friend, the lack of ability to narrow it down any further is more a result of my inability to get a good photo of the birds than it is of her ability to classify.
Over time, my enthusiasm turned to annoyance—Short-shinned Hawks seem to have little to no value for quiet. To put it bluntly, they don’t shut up. All, day long, it’s any wonder they don’t scare away all their prey. It’s like a broken record player, except that you can’t remove the needle because this record player is way up high somewhere in a pine tree. Yet, I suppose if we could communicate, the Short-shined would probably reply to my complaint with: “If you think I’m annoying, try DDT.”
To be fair, it’s not all bad with these birds of prey--they do a very good job of keeping the Crows away. The screech and cry from a murder of crows at sunrise, quickly conjures murderous thoughts indeed. Oddly enough, over the years I have come to gain an appreciation for Crows. When numbering but a few and little to do, perched in trees they will reveal a soft gentle coo. Believe it or not this cooing of the Crows is so easy on the ears it makes one wonder why they bother with all their other noise.
I have yet to hear anything like this from the Short-shined Hawks, but, as annoying as they can be, with their incessant calling, and the fact that they are subsisting on some of the birds that help keep a check on the bug population, it is good to see that all birds of prey are making a come back. Something about the shape of their wings and overall form in flight as they soar upon the wind—such a glorious sight.
Spring, is a time of anticipation. Anticipation, for what is to come. Where we see green shoots, soon will come flowers. So, it’s good to see things greening up again. One green in particular, the Spring shoots of Day Lilies. On the Island there is a sizable patch of these flowers and I look forward to their bloom with great anticipation. Not just because their flower is lovely on the eyes, a golden orange trumpet of Summer, but because they also taste good. For those who don’t know, the flower of the Day Lily is indeed edible and quite delicious too.
Have you ever been to Georgia at the peak of Peach season?
Early morning,
Walking through the orchard to find that perfect Peach, to pluck from above.
Peach now in hand,
It is almost cold to the touch from the cool night air, just now passing away.
The firm skin hesitates the teeth for just the moment
Before breaking through to the soft moist flesh.
An explosion of flavor and juice in the mouth,
Orange tinted Peach blood dribbling down chin, glistens in the rays
Of the new morning sun.
As mouth slowly chews upon the soft flesh,
Slowly rolling it amongst the teeth, tongue, and cheek,
Overwhelmed by flavor, the lungs forget to breath.
Mouth now empty, ready for another bite,
Peach close to the nose, that first breath fills the body deep.
Savoring the glorious Peach—of taste and scent sweet,
The arm pulls away from the face
Allowing the eyes
To rest upon what remains from that first bite:
Soft, fuzzy white, and orange outside,
Inside,
A wet yellow orange flesh,
Deeper still, a shocking layer of red Peach meat.
Within that,
The deep red and brown, undulating surface of the pit.
Eyes, gazing upon a sunrise in hand,
All senses, almost, overwhelmed
Savoring this start to the day.
Does a Day Lily taste like this? Well, no. But it does have subtle overtones of Peach, at least to me it does. Now you may have never been to Georgia during the peak of Peach season, but when it comes to the Day Lily you really need not have to, for, truth be told, neither have I, but, those are some of the thoughts, that flavor my mind, when I dine, on the flower, of the Day Lily.
Peddles’ soft touch, perfect to tickle laughter from a lover’s cheek.
A heady bouquet of its own to know, is something gentle and sweet.
This flower’s color, shape, and form, glorious to see,
Colors the palate, light, yet filling, tasty and airy.
Perhaps, the next time you try a Day Lily some or all of these thoughts will spring forth in your mind. The Day Lily is a flower for all the senses. As it is in the flower, so too in Spring: a season for all the senses.
No comments:
Post a Comment