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maribouSo I was lucky enough to be given a perfect April day, set down at the end of this stupid month. Sixty degrees, today, and lovingly sunny, the sunny springtime blue sky and rising green and fattening buds that made me love Colorado in the first place.
Of course, I left the building at lunch. I went to the local cafe-in-a-Victorian and asked if please I mightn't sit out on the patio, making myself the first person to do so in 2008. And then I sat in the sun and read while I waited to order, and one of our fat orangey-brown squirrels came out and sat about 3 inches from my foot and stared directly into my eyes as if to say, "What the hell are you doing out here and why don't you have any bread to feed me?" After I'd ordered, but before the food came, a bee visited. It circled my diet Coke, landed on the ice cube, figured out that it was strictly imitation nectar, landed on my shoulder, walked up and down on my bright Hawaiian, figured out they were strictly imitation flowers (actually, fish, but), landed on my book, walked up and down on the print. I don't know what it thought about the print, but it got bored pretty fast and decided to climb around on the back of my head for a while. Then it flew off, and I had dilled artichoke soup and some salad, and read my book, and watched the crows in the trees. And the whole time my heart was singing, singing.
Of course, I left the building at lunch. I went to the local cafe-in-a-Victorian and asked if please I mightn't sit out on the patio, making myself the first person to do so in 2008. And then I sat in the sun and read while I waited to order, and one of our fat orangey-brown squirrels came out and sat about 3 inches from my foot and stared directly into my eyes as if to say, "What the hell are you doing out here and why don't you have any bread to feed me?" After I'd ordered, but before the food came, a bee visited. It circled my diet Coke, landed on the ice cube, figured out that it was strictly imitation nectar, landed on my shoulder, walked up and down on my bright Hawaiian, figured out they were strictly imitation flowers (actually, fish, but), landed on my book, walked up and down on the print. I don't know what it thought about the print, but it got bored pretty fast and decided to climb around on the back of my head for a while. Then it flew off, and I had dilled artichoke soup and some salad, and read my book, and watched the crows in the trees. And the whole time my heart was singing, singing.
