Ordinary Beauty

I was just now outside putting chow out for the pups. It is still quite dark, the wee twinkle lights in the tree lighting my path. I opened the chow bucket and from my bent over position glimpse a bright glow on the horizon, tucked in the valley of the silhouette of the tree branches. The tree branches that had only just lost their thick, broad leaves.

A large white moon, drifting down to sleep, its edges gently stroked by the tips of the tree branches.
It was one of those sweet right-time right-place encounters with simple, stunning beauty. Anywhere else in the garden the moon could not be seen. Another two moments, and the moon was gone.

Three hundred and thirty miles in a 1964 Ford 2-ton truck with a fully (and I can’t emphasis fully fully enough) loaded box.

Just drove from Malo, WA to Magnolia, WA with my faded-blue truck, big-ass aluminum box on the back and the stuff of my inheritance inside. Shake shake shake rumble. Long, loud trip.

See, the truck truly is a farm truck. Drives like one. Comes with assorted debris of the ages in the cab, and the classic “Gas Grass or Ass. No one rides for free” sticker on the glove box.

Did I mention loud? And hurky jerky? All along the highway. Tiring. Plus, three mountain passes between here and there.

But I did it! And the truck is now parked here at my home, with the looming chore of unloading and finding homes for all the contents.

Did I mention fully loaded?

Last night in my dreams there was a large blue pool and in it turtles swam. One was especially large and I rode on its back.

Eighteenth-century hermeticist, Don Pernety, saw the tortoise as “the symbol of the raw material of the Art.” Of course, there are multiple cultural references and linkings of the tortoise to the universe, the cosmos, the gods.

Later in my dream, I was being handed the turtle and to accept it and cradle it I had to release from my left hand, three thin, short snakes.

I have a gigantic crush on raccoons these days.

At this moment, there are four of them in our pond, a mom and her triplets. They are fishing for the peanuts I’ve thrown in there. When Hannah found out we do this she said, “You’re encouraging them?!!??” And, we confessed, that yes, we do.