The water level in Lake Maria is falling. Between the frothy waves and the highlands of the plain of Poop, the accumulation of leaves, small pieces of deadfall from the trees, and deposits of fecal matter by my dog Lucy has created marsh. Here lurk creatures, be they big or small.
Adventurous squirrels. The occasional wild turkey. Curious Rabbits. Swooping birds and Ducks. They all visit and get whatever this wetland mass offers them. The bugs and crawling things are not as obvious, but they are there. I look out there and wonder, 'The days get longer and warmer. Can the mosquitos be coming soon?'
I unleashed the bike and took a ride in my neighborhood. Did anyone else read the column in The Guardian (Poor man's New York Times) about how he changed the emotional content of his day by purposefully saying hello to ten strangers per day? It works. I got four of them today on my ride. Everyone said hello back and, for those that made eye contact, returned my smile. Let me just say, since I don't get out every day, it has more meaning.
My favorite targets are the number of downs syndrome people that I ride with on our bus. They are transiting to and from their jobs. Often they will greet me first, but I try to initiate. They never fail to return my greeting and often want to talk.
I hate to sound like these folks are anything but people with a neurological problem. They aren't special. They aren't savants. Most important, they are people. Almost every one of them that I've talked with to have been a pleasure to meet and a provided a worthwhile conversation.
As the days pass our weather improves from the standpoint of beckoning us to leave our shelter and venture about. True, the wet, cold days are no bargain. But a wise Midwesterner knows that any moisture he doesn't have to shovel is a better form of Mother Natures tears. We await the warmer, longer lasting sun. Patience is our controlling emotion. The sight of the migrating birds is heartening. If we don't have to put on additional clothing to retrieve the paper from the garden, because our paper person is not Aaron Rodgers, we count it as I good thing. I note that early mornings require a light jacket, but as the sun beats back the cool air, the jacket becomes something we carry. We exist on the cusp of winter and spring.
From the gloomy, rain-soaked confines of Camp Jeff. I remain, Poppa Jeff, looking for the light.
Adventurous squirrels. The occasional wild turkey. Curious Rabbits. Swooping birds and Ducks. They all visit and get whatever this wetland mass offers them. The bugs and crawling things are not as obvious, but they are there. I look out there and wonder, 'The days get longer and warmer. Can the mosquitos be coming soon?'
I unleashed the bike and took a ride in my neighborhood. Did anyone else read the column in The Guardian (Poor man's New York Times) about how he changed the emotional content of his day by purposefully saying hello to ten strangers per day? It works. I got four of them today on my ride. Everyone said hello back and, for those that made eye contact, returned my smile. Let me just say, since I don't get out every day, it has more meaning.
My favorite targets are the number of downs syndrome people that I ride with on our bus. They are transiting to and from their jobs. Often they will greet me first, but I try to initiate. They never fail to return my greeting and often want to talk.
I hate to sound like these folks are anything but people with a neurological problem. They aren't special. They aren't savants. Most important, they are people. Almost every one of them that I've talked with to have been a pleasure to meet and a provided a worthwhile conversation.
As the days pass our weather improves from the standpoint of beckoning us to leave our shelter and venture about. True, the wet, cold days are no bargain. But a wise Midwesterner knows that any moisture he doesn't have to shovel is a better form of Mother Natures tears. We await the warmer, longer lasting sun. Patience is our controlling emotion. The sight of the migrating birds is heartening. If we don't have to put on additional clothing to retrieve the paper from the garden, because our paper person is not Aaron Rodgers, we count it as I good thing. I note that early mornings require a light jacket, but as the sun beats back the cool air, the jacket becomes something we carry. We exist on the cusp of winter and spring.
From the gloomy, rain-soaked confines of Camp Jeff. I remain, Poppa Jeff, looking for the light.
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