Just sitting here thinking about cabbages and kings. I often do that. No matter how hard I try, I simply cannot discipline what passes for my mind. This morning is rather pretty here. The bay is calm, the sky is dotted with clouds, and, while the snow-covered mountain peaks are hidden behind those clouds, the rolling foothills of those mountains are serene and green in a partial sunshine that is struggling mightily to do a bit better.
I look over at my beloved cat who is sleeping peacefully and I remember her as a kitten. And this sparked several questions:
Is there anything on the planet cuter than a kitten?
Is there anything sweeter than a fawn tucked safely away by her mom amongst the foliage just outside my office window?
Is there anything more intelligent than a Border Collie?
Funnier or more entertaining than a Sea Otter?
Does anything smell as sweet as the Oleander in bloom?
Well... ok... maybe the Night-Blooming Jasmine:
This brings fond memories of my girlhood (is that a word? girlhood?) in Florida.
There was a night-blooming jasmine right outside my bedroom window and on soft, summer evenings that heady sweet fragrance transported you to some indescribable, heavenly place.
One year my daddy planted sugar cane in the back yard:
And when it was ready, he cut it for me and I chewed and sucked on the sticky, sugary sweetness, happily oblivious to the juice running down my face and arms and hands. Little kids don't care about that sort of thing. They are very akin to kittens and puppies in that they take instant pleasure whenever it comes their way.
One year we went on vacation to Georgia to visit some relatives. I remember being in their tobacco barn -- a most wonderful and unique smell you will never forget if you ever have the chance to experience it. That year we were treated to watermelon like none I've tasted since. Fresh from the field it was cut and brought to the house. There, in the yard, my relative took a huge knife and he whacked the melons in half and everyone - even the kids like me - got an entire half of a delicious, ripe, red watermelon. Salt shakers were passed all around and we all felt pampered as kings as we dove into the seedless heart of the thing - ecstatic that we did not have to share it with anyone.
The richest man in Georgia did not eat better on that day.