Delightfully Free, Deliciosamente Gratis

Delightfully Free Sudoku rebus

 

7:05 A.M.   Golden day and the gates open wide. This is it. Before the bridge ↓ Ty Classic heart tag ↑ This is love. Soothing sunlight settles. Video.  Two turtle trails. No body, save that of a fallen faint yellow bird. A vireo. An angel. No herons. One running pair ↔ HIS ↓ bright apple green laces ↑ comparatively colorless clothing - HERS ↑  bright apple green shorts and top ↓ comparatively colorless running shoes. Near the nine a stonewashed card: Delightfully Free * Deliciosamente Gratis.* McCafé. Maple wing pathling and a magenta/cyan dangling wrapper.  What’s next?

Hi Jen

 

 

  Fish Crave It!™  the Eagle Claw trademark, an Avenir ™  disc, FIRE on a tee shirt and some blue willow clip art left over from grant application thumbnail proposals. Written in screenings in wide simple strokes: HI JEN. Three cars in the upper lot, all spread out.  A heron at either end, one by Plum creek, the other at the mill and both into hunched down hunting pose. Victor caught cold Saturday. Found an irregular leaf.  That’s how today sizes up.  If you look real close at the top it says CapuzziCE, whatever that means.

A Fruit Basket Makes a Lovely Gift

   Tuesday I walk elsewhere. It is eight degrees. I have a job to do. Stopped by: a barricade across, a sign next to: end of road. CLOSED TO PEDESTRIAN TRAFFIC.

“No missing that sign,” mumble I to self. We turn around. Admiring  the architecture. Remembering watercolor paintings I made along here. Glance at the water.

“Pretty little creek, ” think I to self and self to I. And there it is:  a small great blue heron in the water. It lifts itself aloft. I am left to walk.

 

Wednesday is warmer, albeit 18 degrees. Zero herons in the Heron Report. Cross country ski tracks. Them that thunk snow have got what they thunk or thereabouts.

On ESPN Radio, Mike and Mike argue   argue over ogling and ogling. They deliver their famous saying: “A fruit basket makes a lovely gift.”

Very Giacometti

  

Very Giacometti

 

Parts of the path are flocked with very Giacometti patterns, it is like a Rohrschach test: ballet figures and rabbits and people in boats. Paredolia. It is enough to make a person dizzy. Sunday.

   Monday morning a fine snow begins, turns into a blizzardy looking thing and fizzles by early afternoon. Shaken, not stirred. Working diligently.

   I stop to make investigative fashion report at a new shoe store.

   “Do you have any orange shoes?” was the intended question. The salesman is engaged in a phone conversation.

   Conciergeless, dazed and confused? Not I. Goddess Apophenia! I find them myself.  Baby let’s transverberate.

 

   to be continued

Hug Those Curves

     Genie in the garage. Road sign: bridge. Road narrows. Hourglass on orange.

    Couple of weeks ago, the tires on my truck need balancing. So I take it in for service. I wait.

   Jonathan, the owner of the shop that takes care of my wheels lets me know the truck is ready, all set to go.

   “Now you can really hug those curves!” Jonathan says with smile.

   And for some strange reason my mind goes immediately 

 here, 

 stays:

 

Shake.

 

Photo courtesy of bitemyhorse.com Allison Huyett