There’s magic where you look for it. 

And despair, too, often even if you’re not. 

Just in case there’s vitality in nature, I walked barefoot and talked to the thousand birds that surrounded me. Most were unseen, but few went unheard. 

Unlike us, who mostly stay silent for fear of our voices being ridiculed. You’ll be mocked whether you’re silent or singing. Your words and letters will be judged, mostly by people who can neither aptly wield a pen or dare to hold a note.

A crow followed me across the area I refer to as the alien meadow due to the strange vertical plants that secretly grow there each year. I hated to leave it behind because it was cawing for my benefit. 

X

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Because I’m up early enough every morning, I went outside to enjoy the beautiful weather at 1:00 a.m. and to watch the red blood moon eclipse. As with so many things, it doesn’t matter whether I post a beautiful well-defined picture or a careless one. I took pictures when the moon was crimson, but oddly prefer the crescent-lit luminescent bites of the Moon. You can find beautiful red shots of the moon in other places. All of them will render second hand experiences if you weren’t up and outside to witness it

Pictures have meaning when they are anchored to first-hand experiences. To stand outside barefoot close to the Ides of March, looking up to the sky in the dead of the morning was special. But it’s like trying to explain the color blue to someone without vision. It was my stolen moment and I’m sorry you weren’t there to witness it.

X
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I left Señor Conejo on Michael’s car. Michael returned to the job he left recently at the inconvenience store, so it seemed appropriate to leave him a head-scratcher of a surprise.

Señor Conejo has adorned the inside corner of my landing post for a couple of years. It came to me because a friend had ordered it from a Temuesque online store. (Where expectations seldom intersect with reality.) I took some time to fix it, paint it, and adorn it with a wild assortment of a doodads. Chris P. Bacon and Redactyl,  my personal weather dinosaur, both still stand guard along the banister rail. 

Señor Conejo undoubtedly was growing concerned with some of the wild neighborhood shenanigans he has witnessed from his perch above the parking lot.

In one way, I hated to part with Señor Conejo. But it’s time for a renewal. Giving away these personal things capriciously gives me a little pause. 

Then I look up into the early morning sky and realize that one day ownership and sentimentality must ceed their claim to whatever comes next. 

The greater our reluctance to step aside, to yield, or to change, the higher the probability of dissatisfaction and unhappiness becomes.

Love, X

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I of course was awake when the clocks flipped back an hour. When I went outside I was greeted with strong wind gusts and the clattering echo of someone’s wind chimes lodging their complaint about the unusually warm weather. The clouds above me raced across the sky. 

It was hard for me to go inside. I wanted to watch and listen to the symphony of rustles, chimes, and clouds. Every few minutes, the wind whistled between the wooden fence slats. Unlike most mornings, there wasn’t much traffic, nor were the usual cast of characters mumbling or coming in and out of nearby apartments. 

I went to the inconvenience store for a soda. My trip was mostly a pretext to see if anything unusual would pop up. 

Y’all might have witnessed people going to the store in pajamas. I can go one better. I had to laugh as I watched a woman approach the store wearing her bedspread. That’s either a demonstration of liberation or I-don’t-give-an-eff.

X

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