So, What’s The Message?

As noted somewhere, the big, green tree that made the view from the window (from a most common angle) a peaceful scene of sky and nature has been cut down.  The new view (same angle) still has trees on the hillside, but what immediately comes in sight is the back side of a city block of houses that appear to be mostly rentals in need of repairs in an age range of around hundred years old.  Here and there people have added carefully chosen neat “fixings,” but what’s seen is a garage that needs paint, a tacky roof and more.  In the center of the view, clear and vivid, is the top part of a church about a block away. 

At 7:45 a.m. yesterday, it was Sunday morning.  It was Sunday morning at 4:45 a.m., too; but, 4:45 a.m. doesn’t exactly “feel” like a Sunday morning.  Maybe it’s just a subconscious drive to be making a change, but, like on Saturday, it was decided there would be a trip downstairs and outside for no reason.  The aim was for 9:00 a.m. and yours truly didn’t make it until about 10:00 a.m.  It was beautiful outside.  Thoughts harkened back to long ago when 10:00 a.m. Sunday morning was a time to pay respects to a God Almighty via church going.  Two elderly ladies with grayed hair and pushing walkers exited the building apparently intent on doing just that. 

After some contemplation of the flowers (apparently the reason for the ones that look like weeds is that they grow in the shade) and some contemplation of the river (some brown suddenly making the scene looked like sewage dumping and was the wind blowing the water upstream?) and a glance at the newspaper someone left at the mailboxes, there seemed nothing left to do but go back to the apartment.  One realization to immediately hit was that there was no checking for the grocery advertising.  More important, after a good rest, enroute to lunch, what was discovered was that one of the wheels of the scooter had bird crap in the treads all around it, picked up while experiencing Sunday morning. 

“Messages” can be anywhere.   


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