Earlier, at 0200 or so, but I couldn't see her splendid body-- too far along in her course, and beyond the edge of the eave. By 0430 or so she must have been at lear near the treeline to the west because her brightness had disappeared, leaving Venus the most glorious star in the firmament.
I forgot all about the mysterious piece of cardboard until I was on my way back from the shopping etc, and then, reaching the intersection, I couldn't see it across the way so grumbled in exasperation. Once safely on the west side of Gilham, however (that is the intersection when the woman knocked into me with her car), I saw that it was there still, the written side facing down. Had to manoeuvre around traffic and do a bit of contortion-- my back and hip don't like to bend 100° or 110° or whatever was necessary to reach the flat cardboard on the street from the curb. I ought to have stood in the street itself but felt I was risking catastrophe already bending down from edge of the sidewalk.
It is a shopping list, written in purple ink. ICE in large letters, the number 3891. Misspellings, tsk (tomatoe and avacado, perhaps mustaurd). Am not sure what 'cheesech' means; the 'ch' looks to have been added afterward: cheddar, perhaps. Sliced chicken or turkey packaged as lunchmeat and sliced bread doesn't immediately signal to me that the list-writer is going to be too particular about the sort of cheese to be added to the sandwiches but, eh.
A bit disappointing that it didn't turn out to be a brief short story but a pleasant diversion none the less.
***
Today is the feast of Abbot St Aegidius, better known by his English name, St Giles. The Martyrology says only that the holy monk gave his name to the town where his abbey was located in Gallia Narbonensis. It would be a good day for a re-reading of J.R.R. Tolkien's Farmer Giles of Ham. I can't find a Mass or any part of the Office for St Giles so this will have to do.
***
Ante Completorium. The Moon has risen above the horizon but I can see it only in slivers through the trees, like panes of stained glass, all dull yellow. I hadn't realized that it is rising as early as this although it is almost 2100, I guess. Always later than I think it is, alas.
***
Comments
Post a Comment