Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Photographic Memory

Can't you hear that rooster crowin'?
Rabbit runnin' down across the road
Underneath the bridge where the water flowed through
So happy just to see you smile
Underneath the sky of blue
On this new morning, new morning
On this new morning with you.

Can't you hear that motor turnin'?
Automobile comin' into style
Comin' down the road for a country mile or two
So happy just to see you smile
Underneath the sky of blue
On this new morning, new morning
On this new morning with you.

The night passed away so quickly
It always does when you're with me.

Can't you feel that sun a-shinin'?
Ground hog runnin' by the country stream
This must be the day that all of my dreams come true
So happy just to be alive
Underneath the sky of blue
On this new morning, new morning
On this new morning with you.

So happy just to be alive
Underneath the sky of blue
On this new morning, new morning
On this new morning with you.
New morning . . .

Bob wrote it. The words are stirring my heart to embrace this first day of Spring, and listening to Liz and Lisa sing the lyrics my head is nearly convinced that this really could be a new morning. Not much has changed or improved. Children are still coughing and Geoff has left for work, but Maria is dancing and it tickles my soul to see her turn and spin, to see her smile. Could it be? Could this be the day that all of my dreams come true? Let’s just say, I am feeling mighty receptive.

I am at it again, browsing through my photographs. I posted photos from 2003 last time and today I want to add a few more. Slowly, I am developing a concept in my mind that may eventually be a catalyst for action: I should print photographs, frame them and hang them on the walls, then I could see beautiful faces and enjoy happy memories throughout my day. It is an idea too large to fully grasp in one sitting. In the meantime, I will play here, from the comfy chair.

And now it is autumn and we are still living in our lovely El Rancho... where the chickens and children play.

Diego is still so alive in my heart that I can see him stretching, like he is here, and I just want to snuggle his furry scruff.

I have never known a more mellow, tender, sweet, loving kitty. He rode everywhere in our car, happily snoozing on anyone's lap, and he liked to be carried in baskets or boxes. Yet in spite of all this kitty kindness, he gave the biggest stink eye of all time.

Janece is inspiring me to look at myself. She is taking a self portrait every day for 365 days. I think we have similar issues of about self-image. I do have some photographs of Me, like this one of me blogging. Naturally I like it better than most, because I think I showered that day, or something. (Again, with the self deprecating humor. Janece, how's your project going?)

Here's my William. He's been writing summaries of Huck Finn. He never wants to write and he insists 'it's hard' and he's 'no good.' But he is good. He is a very good writer; better than I was at his age. I think it may have something to do with his quiet, reflective way of absorbing details, making observations. I can see it in his intent gaze.

Max may be a writer someday too, or if not, someone should follow him around and take notes on every thing he says.

This is from October of 2003, so we must have been celebrating Jacob's birthday. Jacob and Adam are friends of William, Alex and Max, and Anne and I are friends, since the start of MNO. I just love seeing a snapshot of friends and being reminded that I have history and connections.

I started the day brightly eager to spring forward. This picture makes me pause and cry, because I miss my feathered chicas so much. This was the last time I was with Gracie and her sister hens, Luna and Rosie. Lately, I worry that my memory of the chicas has become inflated and grand, and that having hens again, if I ever can, will not be as sweet as I make believe. Was it only a dream?

Alex remembers the chicas. And I remember Alex, living at El Rancho, planting his guavas, digging around, growing and exploring. He's part farmer too, I think; just like me.

Now, this is cooking. Don't think this is camp cooking or roughing it. This is my uncle Gilberto making breakfast at the family ranch, Ojo de Agua, in Mexico. I will have an outdoor kitchen again some day. Will you come and eat hot corn tortillas with me?

If ever I do get around to hanging photographs I will be sure to include scenes from the ranches and farms of my youth, the places I dream of and long to return to.

And then I can gaze happily at horses, cows, and chickens, gardens, fields and skies.

Make a list of five or more things you would like to be doing right now, and if it doesn't include 'riding around the country in the bed of a truck,' then you may be missing out. I would love to be riding in the back of an old truck, especially with my sweetheart.

2 comments:

  1. Yay! Even more pictures. =) I always love the pics you post on your blog. And: Yes, I will go eat hot corn tortillas with you!

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  2. Oh my goodness! Did you grow up in Mexico? On a ranch??? I LOVE outdoor kitchens!!! I believe I was also born part farmer... although I have lived in cities my entire life.... my dream is to own a small farm with sheep, one or two dairy cows,and chickens. Sell the wool, milk the cows to make butter and cheese to sell, and sell the eggs. My husband doesn't share my dream, and owning a tiny landscaping business isn't really that lucrative, so we're doing what we can with what we have available.

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