In the hills, time is relative; it is daytime for working or it is nighttime for sleeping. In the valleys and towns, time is timed and passes with the ticks of clocks or with the scurry to do this or that. In the hollows and on the ridges, time is measured from day to night, from season to season, and from birth to death. One day very soon, the people of the hills will be consumed by time and in eons the mountains will quietly follow. Somewhere people will likely remain for some length of their measured time, marking their existence by the seconds and minutes of their awareness. Whom will be the last person to say "I wonder what time it is?" Will he realize he has all the time there is and when his time ends, the door will be forever closed on human consciousness and the age-old question "does time exist without anyone to mark its passage?" will not be answered. On the hillsides, the question would never have been asked; hill people do their living without clocks to tell them when or how. These people do not live within a framework of schedules; these folk are the essence of time; they are timeless. ****
Not much for today; Carolyn is at grocery store. For brunch, I ate a handful of Frito® Chili Cheese corn chips washed down with a Caffeine Free Diet Pepsi®; am I on a diet or what! I took only 2½ sugars in my coffee this morning; the heart surgeon has put the fear into me! I am hungry. You can call me Joe Healthy from now on.----
Today is Thursday, but I suspect it is Saturday in disguise pulling an April Fool joke. I've already been on the porch sunning my belly and chest. Wore my shorts with the legs rolled up to my never-nevers and can see a bit of sun glow on my knees. Cleaned the Pentax® again, trying to remove the crud from the hard to get to places. I need a new memory card as the old one is becoming worn around the edges. An eight-gig card seems to have sufficient capacity for a full day's shooting in RAW format. Tried to get a pic of a buzzard ascending on the morning currents but his climb was so swift he was quickly just a dot in the sky. Robins are building their first nests of the season, peckerwoods are drumming and calling for mates, and cardinals are in full song. The sky is blue, the grass is green, the air is warm, and my heart still beats; life is good.
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Have a great Thursday that seems like Saturday!
4 comments:
Your hill people (people who are time) are like magical realism of Gabriel Garcia Marquez; a writer whom I liked so much in my youth.
I like when you are in a good mood.:-)
I don't think I have read any of Marquez's work; I will see what I can find.
I'm always in a good mood; I just act grouchy. ;-)
Thanks, my friend. :-)
Great piece. How true it is. We should all learn a little from that.
The noise in my computer is the fan for the power supply. I'll see if I can clean it out and attempt to change it if that does not work.
Power supply fans can be changed, but it is probably much easier to replace the p.s.
Thanks, Mark.
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