Longer Days

In most years, I find that as the days get longer, my DOGAS (Degree of give a shit) improves. Along with that, my strength seems to improve as I do more outside. This year the higher than usual pollen count has me feeling worn out and I just don't have that get up and go to get up and drive. I'm sure that some of that is the unusual sadness this year over the loss and impending loss of loved ones. Clinically it might even be describes as depression. The difference is that I feel it will be soon over and depression often lasts long.

The really strange thing to me is my lack of creative spark. I just don't seem to have that wit and wisdom I normally have. Yes, I know that some of you think it is a kind of smart ass, but my perception therefore my reality is that it is that it is one of those qualities that makes me unique. I do hope that my perception is closer to reality than to be a part of that crowd out there that has been ranting and raving about everything until nothing seems noteworthy.

Yesterday morning I was sitting here in the computer chair and a deer strolled by eating the new leaves on the trees. This morning a turkey came to visit. The birds seem to be scattered, nesting and moving to new areas after a long winter depending on the feeder for feed. Right now, there is a dove searching the ground for leftovers.

Gotta run and get a few things done.


1 comment:

  1. Thanks for sharing your thoughts, MUD.

    I think the weak DOGAS is making the rounds. I'm certainly not in the situation that you find yourself. It's got to be tough...and I do not look forward to that day at all when I know my Momma might soon be in another place.

    I wish I could send some "sparky" pithy phrase your way that could in some way help. But, it would only be a platitude, and you've heard them all before.

    I'll just say, thank you for taking the time to write, even though you didn't find work...

    Oh man, I've got a great story about my Granddaddy when he moved down to a "big city" in Louisiana from a hog farm in North Carolina back in the 1930's...he always ended it up with "write, if you find work."

    Well, I'll let you go, MUD. You all are in our thoughts and prayers.