Blossoms
(Note: This is a mirror of the post found in my new journal. If you want to read the post with hyperlinks and working music downloads, please visit http://swmorey.blogspirit.com, thanks.)
Sometime last night, the tree outside my window blossomed. One day there are just bare branches, and the next there are flowers, little white flowers. Woke up early, then went back to bed and slept in late. Got up and watched The Price is Right with the gang. The program was interrupted before the final showcase. A chimney in Vatican City had white smoke coming out of it and thousands of people cheered and waited in anticipation. White smoke meant that a new pope had been elected and the ringing of the bells would seal the deal. So I watched on my TV this chimney in Italy with white smoke billowing up into a cloudy gray sky and waited for the bells. The camera panned over the crowd once in a while as more and more people filled the square. Then the bells began to ring, but it was a false alarm. They were the bells that always went off to mark the hour, not the bells that would mean new pope. A little while later, the bells began to ring again and the crowd erupted with joy. I listened to the bells ring and soon you could hear other bells ringing, all the bells in Rome. Then the clouds parted and there was sunlight. I am not a catholic, nor do I consider myself religious, but there was something mystical and archaic going on in Rome and the echoes reverberated all the way to Mt. Pleasant, Michigan.
I just put on a pair of old gym shorts because it is very hot in here, even with all my bedroom windows open. A little while ago the people who live across the street from us were outside singing as loud as they could. I can't complain, last night we shot off fireworks at two in the morning in celebration of a friend's birthday. As I was writing the previous sentence a car drove by with such powerful bass that it made my windows rattle. Right now it is quiet, but I hear voices in the distance like whispers. I like living where I do, my neighborhood is always alive. There is always something to listen to.
Van Morrison - Into the Mystic
That is all for tonight my Chamulas. Enjoy warm nights like this. Keep your windows open and taste the fragrance of blossoms in the breeze.
Sometime last night, the tree outside my window blossomed. One day there are just bare branches, and the next there are flowers, little white flowers. Woke up early, then went back to bed and slept in late. Got up and watched The Price is Right with the gang. The program was interrupted before the final showcase. A chimney in Vatican City had white smoke coming out of it and thousands of people cheered and waited in anticipation. White smoke meant that a new pope had been elected and the ringing of the bells would seal the deal. So I watched on my TV this chimney in Italy with white smoke billowing up into a cloudy gray sky and waited for the bells. The camera panned over the crowd once in a while as more and more people filled the square. Then the bells began to ring, but it was a false alarm. They were the bells that always went off to mark the hour, not the bells that would mean new pope. A little while later, the bells began to ring again and the crowd erupted with joy. I listened to the bells ring and soon you could hear other bells ringing, all the bells in Rome. Then the clouds parted and there was sunlight. I am not a catholic, nor do I consider myself religious, but there was something mystical and archaic going on in Rome and the echoes reverberated all the way to Mt. Pleasant, Michigan.
I just put on a pair of old gym shorts because it is very hot in here, even with all my bedroom windows open. A little while ago the people who live across the street from us were outside singing as loud as they could. I can't complain, last night we shot off fireworks at two in the morning in celebration of a friend's birthday. As I was writing the previous sentence a car drove by with such powerful bass that it made my windows rattle. Right now it is quiet, but I hear voices in the distance like whispers. I like living where I do, my neighborhood is always alive. There is always something to listen to.
Van Morrison - Into the Mystic
That is all for tonight my Chamulas. Enjoy warm nights like this. Keep your windows open and taste the fragrance of blossoms in the breeze.