It’s Mōnandæg, or Monday as we have anglicized it. The second day of the week in my tradition. But my tradition also says the Moon was created on the fourth day, so it is a little odd that the Norse would think it was on the second day. Maybe they didn’t have a Book of Beginnings. So goes an old man’s musings as he sits down to herald a new day.
So, on this day when God invented atmosphere, clouds, rain and oceans, I gaze out my window at the freshly mowed verges as the puck plays music for da budgie and write a morning coffee post. I always feel like I’ve done something important when everything is mowed billiard table flat. Funny that I would retire to the wild lands, and then try to civilize it …
Snookums new riding mower is on the way and will arrive tomorrow, one riding mower is repaired, and one has parts on the way. Eighty bucks worth of small parts. But without good working machines, we’d live in high brush, cockle-burs, thorns and rattlesnakes. So, we mow. And mow. Then mow some more.
But early mornings are mine to savor. Coffee, bare feet, sometimes a cookie, music, and an electronic window into your world. I see that you aren’t dressed for the day either.