Against my better judgement I decided to go outside. With a light breeze blowing out of the south. The laundry on the line gently sways to the gentle motion of the wind. The gnats as usually are plentiful considering it’s 10° warmer than it should be. With the lack of foliage above my head it looks almost alien like. But considering we just went through a hurricane that shouldn’t be surprising.
From the selfie I just took I’m a hell of a lot greyer than I was just a few months ago. The lines on my face are dug in a little bit deeper, while my rosacea on my face has paled to a soft pink. There are just too many changes happening all at once. It reminds me a little of September 2015 when my world nearly crashed down. But that was three grandbabies and two son-in-laws ago. So as the silver surrounding my wife’s face creates a halo. I’m reminded once again, time always changes.
So with a hint of wonder lust I peer across this bare hill. Hardly recognizing anyone or anything from the attitudes or landscape. It reminds me a little of going back to the river. Where trailers and cabins that once lined the bluff are now gone, with nothing left but a few live oaks and the grey sand. That seems to be the new color of the season…grey. With all its ashy undertones and grainy feel. So what will my next adventure be like? Well it can’t get any worse than it already is now. Unless I end up living on the street bathing from an unguarded water spicket. Even so, I’ll still keep on trying.
From the selfie I just took I’m a hell of a lot greyer than I was just a few months ago. The lines on my face are dug in a little bit deeper, while my rosacea on my face has paled to a soft pink. There are just too many changes happening all at once. It reminds me a little of September 2015 when my world nearly crashed down. But that was three grandbabies and two son-in-laws ago. So as the silver surrounding my wife’s face creates a halo. I’m reminded once again, time always changes.
So with a hint of wonder lust I peer across this bare hill. Hardly recognizing anyone or anything from the attitudes or landscape. It reminds me a little of going back to the river. Where trailers and cabins that once lined the bluff are now gone, with nothing left but a few live oaks and the grey sand. That seems to be the new color of the season…grey. With all its ashy undertones and grainy feel. So what will my next adventure be like? Well it can’t get any worse than it already is now. Unless I end up living on the street bathing from an unguarded water spicket. Even so, I’ll still keep on trying.
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