Porum Landing
Lake Eufaula

 

I’m sitting at the kitchen table in my lake cabin.  Through a large open window I just saw a ruby-throated hummingbird, which reminds me I need to feed the birds.  This place is a migratory bird sanctuary, but the tufted titmouse, the oriole and the occasional woodpecker most often visit the feeders outside the window.  We also have large communities of purple martins, because everyone’s got a purple martin house on a high pole in their yard.  Sitting at the kitchen table, looking out at a silver and shimming mirror of water broken by ripples from a couple of frolicking cormorants by the boat house (ducks, sort of . . . ).  My neighbor passed away last year (too many cigarettes, Coors and fried fish) but his big yellow pontoon boat is still there with the words “big bird” painted on the side accompanied by a mural of “big bird” on water skis.  The sun just came up over the distant bluff and is red due to the haze from a smoky sky.  I have seen the sun rise over that Pleistocene bluff many times.  And every time I see it I want to tell someone about it. 

Porum Landing
Lake Eufaula

 

The house is very quiet save for the faint sound of a Kitty Wells record in the bedroom.  I just finished washing dishes, scrubbing the eggy muck off an old copper pan from this morning’s spinach and asparagus frittata.  The kitchen still smells pleasantly of eggs, coffee and toast. 

“It Wasn’t God who Made Honky Tonk Angels”, by Kitty Wells”:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tKleTa94dC8

 

I follow this Paris motorcycle guy’s blog on which I found this video.  Now I’m not a fan of T.V. commercials or scotch for that matter (I’m a gin man), but I rather love this Bukowski poem set to a Dewar’s Scotch commercial:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YlFRWG7WSJM

It makes me think of this long and winding journey I’m on, as a hopefully authentic spirit, striving to live out the wisdom of this poem in my own unique way, each and every day.  Needless to say I’ve got a long way to go.