Robert (gurdonark) wrote,

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Flowers everywhere

I woke up a bit groggy from staying up late for the folk concert. It's little things like this which make me feel differently than I did at 25, when I could go see a post punk band at Theatre Gallery in Deep Ellum, be nearly pounded out of my seat by noise, stay up until 2, and then get up and hit the road on a long drive at 6:30 a.m. the next morning. I begged off the Fort Worth art fair to which my wife and my sister in law were going. I could not find my glasses when it was finally time to head out near noon, so I wore sunglasses, khaki shorts, hiking boots and my "tarpon" baseball cap from our Florida trip. I also wore this wonderful T shirt I got from done by user MarsTokyo--the Theater of the Surrealists, except that the real title is in a romance language. I wish I could say that I looked like a dadaist fishing guide with a gift for dreamy nature abstracts, but in fact I looked like an attorney who makes odd throaway camera photos, to the bemusement of
cowboy hatted horseriders who pass by.

I visited two church rummage sales, buying only glass containers for additional terraria (note to self: negotiate tactfully when explaining why home has become Wardian case museum in spouse's absence). Then I went to a Dollar General and bought a large hardcover scrapbook, into which I can paste photos and thoughts. I have a plan, but plans are better executed than told. I ate cheese pizza at CiCi's, the chain where they serve all you can eat and a drink for four dollars and fifty cents, and the television is always set on the Cartoon Channel on Saturdays. I read a book about a poet in North Carolina, whose mother was dying.

I had bought a 3 dollar throwaway camera, and headed to Trinity Trails. Trinity Trails is a lakeside trail 30 miles northeast of Dallas on which riders ride horses and hikers ride daydreams. I walked for an hour and twenty minutes, to the lake and back again, past field and scraggle woods. Everything was in bloom, except the tall grass that still is not green. I saw yellows and blues and purples and white lace. Butterflies crossed my path like jeweled aerial cats, bringing me good luck
(commentary brought to you by the My Little Pony Nature Company). I took 27 throwaway camera pictures, of the things nobody ever takes pictures of, except perhaps for me.

I had an intake of breath, as if the Rapture had begun (in miniature) when a giant swallowtail butterfly, all darks and yellows, rolled by, oblivious to me, perhaps attuned to some higher power. Two tiger swallowtails parted the waters before me. Two caterpillars had to be removed from shirt and replaced on leaves; hope that the second was not too near the green spider. A sagebrush butterfly perched for a moment on branch, at the Exact and Only 4 foot distance in which a throwaway camera picture of anything small will show up, and then like the Coyote Trickster took off just at the instant my finger plunged down toward the camera. I was passed by five horses, four riders, one pedestrian who
was taking a break from riding, two dogs, two hikers, one hikerette, age 2, in a pink cap in a backpack behind a hiker, sundry grackles and the most gorgeous pair of mated cardinals I've ever seen. Then I went to the photo shop and picked up the prints from our rainy day trip to the arboretum two weeks ago. The reds and yellows pop! I will place some photos in an album to remember a happy day; others I will staple on corrugated plastic cards (corruplast) to send to mail art friends. I use my walks to ponder the meaning of life; it is my personal church, my time of self-examination and my dream stage for daydreams all rolled into one.
I thought about an unkindness I did on Thursday, a kindness I wished to do on Sunday, and how nice it would be to put a stop to that slow leak in my right rear tire. You know, the profound stuff. Now I'm home, tired, happy, and grateful that I get to live this way.

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