After dragging myself out of bed, making a cup of coffee, picking up the newspaper (still not read) and turning on the television to "Sunday Morning". I plopped down in a chair and took a view at the day.
"Whatcha' gonna to do?"
After a couple of swigs of coffee and some mindless television, I turned off the electronics and dressed for the morning ride.
The next door neighbor was already outside working on the yard as I fed the fish. The yard was quiet and becoming warm for this time of the morning.
As I prepare, I look at Bianci covered in the yellow pollen, but not today. Even the little bowl of fruit did not pump me up for the Sunday ride, but I checked the sky and moved on.
Fewer people on the streets today, perhaps they are attending worship services or the museum. The joggers red faces seemed to be straining. I know they will soon stop, but I peddle on.
The Libbie hill was typical but not hurtful. The glide back to Patterson followed a trail in the street. Something had leaked out on the street. I hoped it was a water truck and not some toxic poison that was splashing in my face. I can ride around it as it vaporizes from the concrete unlike those at the gulf coast.
I glance at the cars moving about in the parking lot of an old bank and listen to the shouts of people directing each other. Across the street is the Grill restaurant which I have not tried. It was a redneck bar with signs on the ceiling, but looks more upscale now.
Breaking by the library on the long slope down to the Willow Drive and it's usual bumps, then enjoying the climb back up the hill draped in ivy.
Slowing again next to churches, knowing the communion has other thoughts than driving. I slow at other locations along the way wanting to stop but there is no reason.
Around the loop at the triangle park with the red and orange signs announcing the upcoming "Strawberry St. Festival". The return streets are filled with cars stopped to empty riders. Some seem to be a night hook up reviving their left vehicle and others appear to be leftovers from a previous gathering.
The newly reopened VMFA appeared quiet and has gated the back entrance. I'll go there next week after the crowds thin. One of the gifts of having free time during the week.
Climbing the Malvern hill was a challenge in the increasing heat but the accomplishment felt good. I thought of the houses in the neighborhood of people I knew while passing. Bobby, the elementary school bully, Mary, my elementary school friend who became my college roommate for a year girl friend, Curley, that strange girl with the wild laugh, and Art's dark house are all landmarks along the Sunday venture.
Arriving home to a van parked in the alley and a baby robin not fearful or shy but with it's baby face on.
After cooling and checking electronic messages, and finishing filling three trash cans with lumber and sticks, I decided to wander into another inspirational journey.
The crowds were as thick and complaining as the day before, I locked up and began my slow stroll through the booths. The jewelry and pottery didn't impress me so I moved pass them quickly. The whimsical made me smile, the photos looked too familiar, and much of the crafts were focused for second homes on the water.
The paintings and some of the frames impressed me. Juxtaposition of illustrations and use of empty space caught my imagination.
One artist explained her work for a magazine. I responded by seeing her print and water color and was inspired. She seemed to appreciate why I was viewing her art. Another artist guided me through his booth and explained he was a retired art teacher. I commented on his pencil drawings and enjoyed his free motion of line. After some conversation, he shook my hand before we parted. Another young woman told me she was teaching art and had just gotten her masters. I asked if she had a website and she handed me a card. I suggested she look for publishing illustrations, such as her fire paintings for the local fire twirlers. She seems excited by the idea.
Some art was typical, some was extraordinary, and all appeared to appreciate the viewing.
After three hours in the hot sun, I was ready to return home to a cold drink in front of a fan. The yard was beaming with critters running amok as my mind tried to saturate all I had seen and heard
Will all this motivate me? There are no excuses.
What did you do today?