Off the Wall

Good Mornin'

Well, finally got around to my spring cleanin' and as we speak, the wind is finishin' up; it's come up a blowin' and, now, "sans" sidin', the soft sides are flappin' and the wind is carryin' off the last of the dust that my broom wouldn't get.

Pretty cool, wakin' up in a bare tent; I also removed my three year old, tore up and stitched together tarp. Hold on a "second"; I got tie up the sides, so the winter dust goes out the door, stead a "up the nose".

There, anyway, ya, I woke up this mornin', surrounded with golden light! Kinda like the rapture, I suppose, but much simpler, in fact; once I pull the tarp, the mornin' light comes in every which way and all the leaks that left their rusty marks, turn the light all gold. Reminds me of an old Japanese print, I found once, when I was helpin' a friend clean out their basement. It was an ink-brush paintin' of an old buddhist monk, holdin' a young tiger by the tail, with a meat cleaver in his other hand; always seemed ta me he was debatin' the merits of dead and alive, time and trouble.

Anyway, it too had become water stained and had some mold spots, so it had become, even more beautiful, then it may have ever been, for the years and rust and mold. And, same, same my tent; tattered edges and all.

Now, to pick up the pieces, 'fore the wind takes 'em all ta Oklahoma; give the apron a nice rake. I have got over my "freakies", far as the reptiles go, but a nice clutter free apron is money in the bank, as I have noticed that they aren't fond of open spaces; crows and owls, too happy to snack.

But, there ya have it; spring cleanin' in all it's glory; light ta see with, clutter removed, the color of water and years, fresh air ta breath, and the smooth grain of planks, polished by foot and another winters mud. Can't complain with that; I can still go to my friends house, see that wonderful paintin', come home and curl up in mine.

Have a great day!

Best,