INTERLUDE

Tired August is winding down like an antique clock, and no key can be found to rewind it.

The changes are very subtle, perhaps unnoticeable to some: shadows are slightly longer, trees look listless, afternoons are lethargic, darkness comes earlier. Summer is waning.

August used to be one of my favorite months - - when I lived in a decent house with central air, within a semblance of civilization.

I didn't have to contend with squirrels in the roof, 'possums under the house, snakes IN the house, acres of 12-foot "weeds", wasps, hornets, beetles, gnats, fruit flies, drain flies, GIANT spiders, endless rain, and a two zillion mile drive to town.

Am I complaining? Naw. When I'm in a bad mood you'll know it.

Late last night I got another horrifying aura migraine. It scared the jeeters out of me and I was forced to go to bed.
Stress.
Stress is my middle name.

Today (or sometime soon) I have to work on my car. It hasn't been starting properly and I was temporarily stranded the last time I went to town (I'll spare you the painful details).

So what else is new?
Fog every morning. Which I love.
Plenty of butterflies and dragonflies.
Which I like immensely.
Rain yesterday with unusually cool temperatures. Which was delightful.

Every once in awhile, I write these crappy, incredibly boring blog posts.....just so that you don't have too much of a good thing.

Photos, anyone?
These were taken a few days ago.

Morning fog in the front "yard"

 Early morning in the back "yard"

FOG AND ABSTRACTIONS

I and my environment seem to have become one: 
an indistinct persistence of sightless fog meandering aimlessly through a forest of uncertainty.

Frost on an early morning that shivers  with trepidation in shadowed places, knowing that the light of another dawn might eventually render it extinct.

A feeble winter sun that timidly lurks behind sporadic mists and naked branches in search of a fragile day that vanishes too quickly to absorb any warmth.

Nothing profound intended here. Just random, fleeting thoughts on a yawning December afternoon. Thoughts designed to accompany the recent photos I took on my property (that sounds more impressive than "in my yard").

I deleted my previous blog post but salvaged the photos.
It's painfully obvious that I'm not in the mood to blog, don't have the holiday spirit, and have been forcing myself to get through another December.

I'm weary of the mercilessly endless daily personal problems, of the frenzied holiday hypocrisy, of existence in general.....

Don't read too much into it. 
It's part of my peculiar nature, part of the poet within me, and part of the privilege of expressing myself.

Photos, anyone?

 Dawn

An evergreen at dawn this morning

Morning Frost

 The rising moon last evening

 

MAGICAL

There are few magical things left in my life. The early morning fog is one of them. It inevitably rolls in, drifts among the forest trees, lingers in the nearby meadows, and vanishes in the wake of the sun by mid-morning.

Restless, ever-changing, mystic, taunting, elusive.... a haunted reflection of my soul.

The other morning I was awakened by loud banging. It wasn't a knock on the door. It was definitely like hammering. On my front porch!
I stumbled out of bed, disoriented and half-asleep, expecting to find somebody hammering on the house.

To my surprise (perhaps shock) it was a woodpecker boring a hole on the wooden porch railing!
I chased him away but he soon returned. Several times. I was finally forced to cover the railing with a large floor mat that I kept by the front door.
So far the woodpecker hasn't returned.

Another pair of birds made a nest atop the porch lamp by the front door. They do this every year and I try not to disturb them.

I don't know why the porch lamp looks green in the photo. Neither the house nor the lamp are green.
One of the birds that built the nest is sitting on the railing (I took that photo through my bedroom window). 

The weather has been hot, humid, unusually dry. No rain for a week - which is an extreme rarity here. 

This evening, just after sunset, I wandered out for a walk through the high brush in the front of my property.
Another magical moment.
There were hundreds (if not thousands) of fireflies everywhere, creating an enchanted light show.

I've always called them lightning bugs. I vividly remember them as a very young child when we still lived in New Jersey (before moving to Southern California, where they don't exist). 

I keep the blinds up on my bedroom window at night so I can lay in bed and watch the lightning bugs drift by.

The cats always look for the coolest places to escape the heat - which is usually the floor. 

 Bosco, yesterday afternoon

My eldest cat Kitzee (also known as Scratch), waiting to get her tummy rubbed. I took these pics of her about an hour ago.

My third cat Scruffy (no photo available) caught a mouse last night but, for some reason, let it go.

Despite having a trio of cats, I think I need to buy mouse traps. 

I'm tired of writing about silly, mundane things on my blog - but if I ever wrote about the subjects that I'd like to write about, I would be hunted down by lynching mobs.

 

FOG, MOON, AND SHADOWS

These February days are slowly getting longer but not nearly enough. It still gets dark too early and daylight is quickly lost in mountain shadows.

Two nights ago it was frigid, a chilling 12 degrees (Fahrenheit). Last night was much warmer, but a wild wind whipped around -  singing like a phantom chorus through the treetops, wailing in distant unseen places.
And then the rain began.
Intense dampness, as always, prevails.

I've been having disturbing dreams. Of people long dead whom I love. They want to contact me but, try as they might, there is no connection. I wander through a somber dreamscape of darkness trying to find them but they remain elusive.
I hate these dreams. They don't frighten me. But they are unsettling.

My dreams are always dark now, reflecting my waking hours. Enough said.

I'm in one of my melancholy Magyar moods. Which only serves to make me annoyingly intriguing (he says with a grim sarcastic smile).

Despite having an enormous amount of important things to do, I baked a cake last night. Then sat - eating cake and drinking coffee - while watching a YouTube video of Swan Lake.

And remembering the very first "live" performance of Swan Lake that I ever saw: one magical long-ago February night at the Los Angeles Music Center. It was the ABT (American Ballet Theater) - during the golden era when Lucia Chase was still alive.

But I'm being boring.....

How about some visuals?

The sunrise a few days ago - I can't remember exactly when. Possibly Thursday? This is a view from the back porch.

The full moon - the "blue moon".

These photos were taken just before dawn, when the tired moon was drifting towards the west.

Midday fog on the front part of my property. This was taken on Friday.

OUT OF THE FOG, INTO THE WIND

It's a few hours before dawn on Saturday morning. A very strong and unseasonably warm wind is blowing - rustling restlessly through the trees, making the wind chimes on my front porch sing.

Several packs (groups? gangs?) of coyotes were howling nearby awhile ago: a macabre chorus in the night. I ran out on the front porch to see them, but it was really too dark (moonless and/or cloudy) and they disbanded rather quickly.

The wind is really raging now as I write. Things are banging around outside and all my cats woke up. The warm temperature is eerie but it won't last (unfortunately). Frigid weather is expected by Christmas Eve.

Yesterday (Friday) the rain poured all day and it was foggy. I've never seen rain and fog at the same time until I moved to Tennessee. I actually like it - very atmospheric.

I snapped a few photos yesterday. Nothing particularly interesting.

 Oranges and apples, and two old nutcrackers that I found packed away.

This snowman used to play music when you pressed his hand, but it no longer works.

The front yard yesterday morning when the fog was starting to roll in (above).

 

.....and the back yard in the dreary afternoon. 

 

 A few autumn leaves are still clinging to trees.

 

 I took a picture of these candles without using the flash and captured my hands holding the camera in the mirror.

FOG AND WILD DOGS

Nearly every morning the mountains are shrouded with gentle fog. It lingers in the canyons and weaves listlessly among the naked branches of trees.

I lie in bed and watch it from the window, feeling peaceful and content. Fog was extremely rare in Texas, and when it did appear it held no beauty or magical ambiance. The fog here in Tennessee reminds me of Southern California fog and ignites fond memories. 

In Orange County, near the beach, the mornings always started out foggy before the sun broke through. I remember those yawning mornings when I'd get up insanely early to go to college. I had to drive past Los Alamitos Race Track and I'd often stop to watch the horses being exercised. 

After arriving on campus I'd head for the music department and climb the three flights of stairs to the rehearsal rooms. I'd get a cup of coffee and then start playing one of the pianos - - while occasionally watching the gentle somber fog weave past the windows.

So many pleasant memories from the faded past.......

Tonight, here in the mountains, I'm in the kitchen cooking an impromptu dinner. The silence is suddenly interrupted by a disturbingly loud clamor of barking and howling dogs. Wild dogs. They roam everywhere late at night, creating a ruckus and igniting bone-chilling fear. 

They are extremely close to the house this time, quite near the back porch. I have a flimsy back door and a very over-sized kitchen window. I can see about a dozen dogs scurrying by and I'm slightly unnerved.

Slightly unnerved?? Hell, I'm scared shitless.

My big cat Kitzee (also known as Scratch) jumps up on a box to watch them. I'm hoping the dogs don't make a leap for the window when they see her.

I snap a quick photo with my digital camera - just for posterity.......

Fortunately the dogs pass by very quickly. The wild ruckus fades away and soon the night is silent again.

Just an average night in the wilderness.

Kitzee, watching the wild dogs

from the kitchen window.

I plan to post another story about my sordid youthful adventures very soon. Just thought I'd mention it, to pique your interest.

Hey, Jon, it'll take more than that to pique their interest.

Heck, that's what you think.