We arose early to attend "first service" church this morning at the Methodist church down the way from us. The minister gave a great sermon in which she discussed treating people like people. I often write or say how I prefer the traditional Methodist hymns to the "handout on a sheet of typing paper" Tin Pan Alley sentimentality of some new "songs of (maudlin) worship",but today the opening hymn proved to be one of those ornate Anglican warhorses designed to convince the singer that questioning any of the 101 theses or the 39 articles would prove as impossible as falling down the 39 steps or climbing some imagined pyramid of Xerxes. I realized that I wax nostalgic for a rather low church, but a low church whose songs do not not quite "Manilow plays the best of Muzak" "lowest common denominator". Yet as I type that I imagine church which is a gathering of all, believer and non-believer, an exercise in community.
We went to Mimi's cafe for brunch, where I had an oatmeal with granola and some brown sugar and raisins. We then went home, where I promptly fell asleep, a compensation for insomnia this weekend. I dislike sleeping on balmy Sunday afternoons, but I needed the rest.
We went to the local nursery to buy new front yard trees, as it is tree planting season in our area. North Texas affords one an incredible luxury when it comes to trees. One has the luxury of lack of choice. We have clay soil with weather extremes, a climate and soil suited to tall grasses more than suburban trees. Thus, the list of things that will grow in the tree-ish line is fairly short. Our last experiments were two understory natives, as I believe in native trees. My faith in them did not translate into their survival, so we need new trees. We decided to get crape myrtles, for although they are not really native and not really trees, they thrive in our climate above all other things, excluding bermuda grass and fire ants. We got a five gallon pot of Natchez variety, which has white blooms, and another five gallon pot of a purple variety with a name like catawba (not a catalpa or catawba tree, but a crape with a similar name). For good measure, we also got a dwarf pomegranite, for no other reason than that it was, to be honest, kinda cute.
We went to Boston Market for a very late lunch, and then headed to the Allen Premium Outlet Mall. My belts no longer suffice to keep my trousers up, which makes travel in airports with luggage a somewhat exciting experience. I acquired three new belts in the next size down, a shirt, a pair of walking shoes, and two Chinese-made metal xylophone-like instruments. I've been morphing my new harmonica into ambient drones.
I got back up on the horse at ccmixter.org with a new song. If you'd like to hear my new work, "Truth Force Drone", it's at
It features a lute and a harmonica, although it sounds like neither a lute nor a harmonica.
Tonight I'm planning to read science fiction. A good weekend, with a busy week ahead.