21 August 2006 20:22
I turn on the ceiling fan with the wall switch, then reach up to pull the chain that turns the light off. The cool breeze feels good as I look across the dappled city, sunlight blazing through the humid ranks of clouds. Earlier I was reading when I heard a distant roar growing closer. I jumped up to look, I was hearing rain pounding the broad leaves of the quasi-jungle below me. Soon enough it would envelope to a full din as large drops were already pinging off my porch railing. I stuffed my feet into the nearest pair of shoes and grabbed my umbrella in a rush for the door. I had an errand to run, and wanted to run it mostly dry.I was successful, but barely. When I returned half an hour later, the sun was blazing down on the sopping wet apartment complex with a vengence--determined to make up for the time it had been thwarted by a measly rain cloud. Perhaps it still smarts from the whipping it got yesterday.
I waited for fuel for quite some time. As I stood on the ramp, minding my own business, all of a sudden it got dark. Looking west, the late afternoon sun was disappearing behind a massive cumulonimbus buildup. Tinged brilliant orange-white at the edges from the sun, angry purple in the middle from the water, it rose to glorious height before fanning out it's anvil head. Granted, as thunderstorms go, it was no'bout a littl' un--reaching perhaps thirty thousand feet--but with the sky to itself, it could preen with pretend greatness. With no big brothers for my eye to campare it to, it did alright; since I was only twenty miles from its core my neck had to crane back well beyond a forty-five degree angle to view its full height spreading towards me.
But the sun shouldn't grumble if it were prevented from spreading late afternoon rays upon the city, doesn't it know that throwing heat onto a reflective surface positioned beneath a moist, unstable air mass will inevitably result in "convective activity"? Maybe the sun which lights our lives isn't too "bright".
Har har. But life moves on, the sun still shines, the sidewalks are soon evaporated dry, and the ever-present south-easterly breeze carries the excessive humidity elsewhere. We all know that "excessive" is a relative term, so maybe I should say that now it is "less humid than before". Enough less humid to make sitting in the sunshine a pleasant prospect; to sit and watch the breeze play and rustle through the banana leaves, to watch the smoke plumes wafting slow and silent up from random fires scattered below, to watch the sun light glint off city traffic that is too distant to be distinguishable from the general muted roar of the city, while I’m listening instead to the thrum of hummingbirds flitting their colourful and aggressive way through the orange and pink flowers scattered along the retaining wall in the foreground. Rest, relax, tomorrow we'll be back to breakneck speed as the rat race screams forward.
But tomorrow will wait until I am done with today's lazy progress. Contrary to the languid nature a hot afternoon inspires, I am listening to the Ride of the Valkyries. Ah the memories a song can bring. Once I was hurtling down the road from Gutters to Alligator Pond in a route taxi, snuggled up to a dozing Jamaican woman in her fifties, fingers clenched tightly to the open window frame to keep my upper body upright, watching a three year old girl sticking her admittedly grubby fingers into what was left of a box of jelly doughnuts before turning to stare at me while she sucked her fingers "clean"--then she'd face forward to start the cycle again: fingers in the box, crane around 160 degrees to stare at me, face forward, fingers in the box...when a song came on the radio that I have never heard in this part of the world before.
I just closed my eyes again, and climbed aboard the dream weaver train...
Lazy days come in all shapes and sizes and colours of packaging, but today's is one of those that lends itself to quiet contemplation. Consider these words written in 1847 by Henry F. Lyte.
Abide with me, fast falls the eventide; The darkness deepens, Lord, with me abide:
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O, abide with me.
Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day; Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see; O Thou who changest not abide with me.
I need Thy presence ev'ry passing hour; What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's pow'r?
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be? Thro' cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.
I fear no foe with Thee at hand to bless: Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness;
Where is death's sting, where grave, thy victory? I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.
Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes; Shine thro' the gloom and point me to the skies;
Heav'n's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee; In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
This version of the song is sung as a chant, four-part harmony. I heard it for the first and only time when I attended the Harmonia Sacra sing at Weavers on New Years Day evening this last January. I have a copy of the music here. Mom liked it enough to lean over and tell Stephanie and I that we should have it sung at her funeral. For that matter, they can have it sung at my funeral too. (The more popular version has three more stanzas and is set to a tune by William Monk).
Or we can ask, "what shall we contemplate whilst eating a Little Debbie Swiss Cake Roll fresh from the freezer?"? Mostly we won't contemplate too much, because it's just so good, and because thinking about it too hard brings up all sorts negative thoughts regarding the ants down here and what all they can get their avaricious mandibles into, which helps explain why the swiss rolls were in the freezer in the first place.
In all, it has been a good lazy day. The sort where I can say I was both lazy and productive. Now that's what I call an unusual combination.
20:22 email me permalink / commentary (5)
You have a real way with words...You know I'm still waiting for the book to come out someday : ) 22 August, 2006 10:34 – 
Jenn Heatwole
I take this to mean that you've agreed to pony up the publishing costs? 22 August, 2006 12:44 – Brendan
hey you're the one with the good job... 22 August, 2006 14:32 – Jenn Heatwole
not after i quit to write full time 22 August, 2006 14:35 – Brendan
Who told you that you could have the last word here, certainly not I. Now, I need to make a point to respond, something about the fact that you seem to have plenty of extra time on your hands (i mean you are online a good deal). Who says you can't write and have a steady job : ) See common sense from a female perspective. 25 August, 2006 18:59 – Jenn Heatwole
