Thursday, November 26, 2020


One of my friends subscribes to the fantasy of being a small woodland creature wearing period clothing and baking pies, anxious about the impending visit of Mrs. Owl, and will his apple cake be ready in time? Which does sound nice, doesn't it? And it should be mentioned that he uses power tools, and handles lumber and cement on a daily basis.

Clearly the world created by Beautrix Potter speaks to people long after their juvenescence. And rightly. There are no blondes, antismokers, antivaxxers, or hobbits in that universe.
So the appeal to rational folks is universal.
And there is tea.

Plus an omelette with aged ham, but that's incidental, and not necessarily part of having tea. It's icing on the cake, as it were. And it made the stuffed turkey vulture happy.

A quick small lunch, or a late breakfast. The other person in this apartment is asleep in her room hugging her teddy bear, the sunlight is shining in through the slats, the day is lovely and peaceful. From downstairs I hear soft murmerings, my landlord and landlady enjoying the day. The Indonesian woman in the front downstairs apartment appears to be at ease also, last night I encountered her in the hallway. She mumbled worriedly about the heat not being on.
Her sensitivity to the cold is far greater than mine.
It came on later in the evening.

While outside earlier there had been very few people about. Late rising, lazy breakfasts, maybe teevee, and eventually roast bird or something. There are very few other pipe smokers in the city, it seems, and while lunting I've never encountered them.
It's warmed up a bit. Still need a sweater. Solani flake in a jaunty old number sounds rather nice. Then an early tea, and a spot of dinner. Other than that it is bird day, there is little to differentiate it from other Autumn days. Cold. Crisp. Slightly windy.
Dry leaves, small things that scurry.

It's been a long time since I've spotted any raccoons in the neighborhood. I hope they are well. They are diurnal and crepescular in their habits. And there is no discarded late night pizza for them to feast upon anymore.

There are pets and dishes of pet food.
Plus filled garbage cans.

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1 comment:

Lady Ignatia J. Reilly said...

I find the world of Beatrix Potter most agreeable. While I doubt my apartment would suit the fussy needs of the "cottagecore" crowd, I do sympathize with their need to drink cowslip wine and tea and have their hankies laundered by friendly hedgehogs.

Frankly I prefer to start my day with coffee, a mixture of skyr and cloudberry jam (for that hygge feeling), and a buttered English muffin. No ciggies til after breakfast, lest they disturb my somewhat delicate stomach.

But first I feed the feline members of my household, who are quite insistent that they get breakfast first.

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