Gorgeous but blustery day in January. The sun is out, and already I see our Arizona ash trees are budding. Hot days are not far behind. Inside the house, I'm feeling cold. I'm still wearing sweaters and pants, and my ever present fuzzy socks- even so I can still feel the cold of the tile floor.
Windy days like this are perfect for snuggling inside the house to write or read. My Sweetie has gone to the ranch to change the batteries in his cameras. I could have gone with him, but the last time I went the jostling of the truck on one of the dirt roads left me with a very sore backside. I can still feel the pain when I cough. A visit to the Doctor because of that yielded a prescription for sore muscles. I decided not to chance getting hurt again.
And so I am all alone now with my thoughts. I look at my hands and I see five small and faint age spots, but only on my right hand. An old hand and a young hand? Had they been on my face I could chalk it up to freckles. Freckles are cute. But on hands, they are a symbol of aging. Proof that no one escapes the ravages of time.
I like sitting in this very spot when it's windy. For some reason, possibly less noise barriers, I can really feel and hear the sound of the wind. Usually it evokes sadness in me. But today, it just makes me think about the realities that other people live. Like a blogger in Illinois, who I'm sure loves where she lives, but I think about the stark countryside she is surrounded by at this time of year. And how the wind must sound
there. Probably more pronounced and sad. I remember passing through the countryside of Illinoise on my way to Chicago during my late teens. It was the trip which changed my life forever. But perhaps that's a post for another day. There were so many fields, similar to where I had grown up in North Texas. Everyone has their own reality to deal with. Whether surrounded by beautiful green landscapes or dormant fields, it's what each person carries inside that shapes their view of their own and others' world.
For me, it all comes down to the fact that I'm a people watcher. No, not stalker.
Watcher. Ever since I was a little girl, I remember my Abuelita taking me to the town plaza on Saturdays or Sundays to enjoy a snowcone, a tostada with chile, or a skewered mango with chile,and we'd sit in the beautiful marble benches, just watching people stroll by. I was always very curious and often wondered who they were and where they were going. I'm afraid I watched so much, I forgot to just
live fully. But in a sense I suppose it explains why I enjoy blogging. It's a form of people watching. And we bloggers all do it. Of course, it also comes with a small caveat. This form of people watching is on a global scale. No longer merely the people strolling by in your neck of the woods...... and now they can also watch
you! On the plus side, it has become a way to make new friends and to share knowledge and skills. Mind boggling when you think that just before the last twenty or so years, life as we know it was
so very different. You'd lose touch with people you had known in school, and that was it. You'd never hear from them again. But then along comes Facebook, Twitter, Blogger and all that changes. Such a different reality from the one I grew up with.
Goodness! A windy day can surely set me to thinking!
