Dust ‘n’ time

IT IS SPRING, and that means dust, so much dust that we keep the living room windows shut.

birdBut it’s early, and we just have dust, not the black cinder shards that will fall in a few weeks more when the country people start burning their fields in earnest, so much so that you’d think we have hundreds of ravens overhead instead of the usual handful of real ones.

These charred “ravens” fall on the downstairs terraza, the upstairs terraza, the yard patio, everywhere, and all must be swept up, save those sitting on the grass. They are left in peace to dissolve.

We’re about to begin our 12th year in the Hacienda. We moved in during Springtime of 2003. I’ve never lived in any house longer. The next longest time was 10 years in Florida, from age 7 to 17, when I  finally escaped from high school and started my shenanigans which only ended in recent times. I ran out of steam.

And we’re also about to start our 13th year of marriage, our 12th anniversary being later this month. I have never been married to anyone so long. First wife lasted a bit over five years. The second about 10 years, though I lived with her nine years before we made it legal. Gotta bust that record.

I love living in this house, and I love living with whom I live in this house.

If you’re not satisfied with your situation, try and try again. In time, you will land upright, smiling.

13 thoughts on “Dust ‘n’ time”

  1. A couple of F’s friends have a place in Jojutla, Morelos, not too too far from Teques, and that’s sugar cane territory. When we were there in Spring of 2012, they were burning off the leaves of the sugar cane, and there were ashes everywhere. Frankly, I found it kind of horrifying. I hope your ashes are smaller and of lesser quantity.

    Congrats on the impending anniversary. I need to keep your last sentence in mind.

    Saludos,

    Kim G
    Puebla, Puebla
    Where we’re ready to drop dead yet again from too much walking.

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    1. Kim: Never having seen cane ashes, I cannot make a comparison. Gets kind of weird around here in Springtime, however.

      As for the walking, go sit on the Puebla plaza and watch the passing parade. It’s fun, and less tiring.

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  2. Same thing in East Texas, only it’s green. Pine pollen everywhere. Congratulations on your 11 years. Love your writing.

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    1. Sue: I am fortunate in that pollen does not bother me. Thanks for the congrats. It’s 11 years with the house, 12 with the matrimony. They are both nice, though the latter is better than the former.

      And thanks for the positive feedback in general. I like it. I send blessings.

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  3. For all my fussing, I can honestly say that I am content — that I have that peace at the center. And, like you, I am thankful to be able to say that without the slightest hint of irony. In some things, I have not a shred of post-modernism in me.

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    1. Steve: In absolutely all things, I have not a shred of post-modernism in me.

      If you have peace at your center, and I’ll take your word for that, I am happy for you.

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  4. Every man has his own destiny; the only imperative is to follow it, to accept it, no matter where it leads him.
    Henry Miller

    In the field of destiny we reap as we have sown.
    John Greenleaf Whittier

    All we are is dust in the wind.
    Kansas

    So far, so good.
    Andrés

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  5. Félipe: Before the fall of the sugar industry in Hawaii, there were frequently black masses of chards on our homes from the burning of the cane. When you combined this with the cinder from the volcano, it could be quite a mess. In addition, the sugar cane trucks left lots of red mud and leavings of the cane on all the roads. There were men with rakes whose sole function was to rake the cane off the highway.

    Alas, Hawaii could no longer financially compete with those caribbean countries you talk about and the state went into a major recession in about 1998. No more sugar cane chards from the burning. On occasion our gutters are still filled with cinder from the volcano. Always, our climate is filled with the burning smoke of the volcano. We call it vog. It can be very noxious.

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    1. Jeez, Larry, that does not sound like the idyllic Hawaii we all hear about. My daughter and her husband fly there from Georgia on a regular basis. They love it, but I doubt they go near where you live.

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