Early Dusk

Hello Gentle Reader

This evening I had taken my dog for a walk. This time of day is best described as dusk and the last part of the sunset. I really like this time of day. It’s beautiful. Its the time where the east is dark, and the west, is just a little bit brighter. The contrast is rather gorgeous and beautiful depending on the day. Throughout our small and short winter walk, of 2011, we observed many sites and scenes -- none of which are connected, and none of which are significant in any way shape or form. In the distance of the small town in which my parents are living, there is a drill site or something to do with oil, is being set up. Most likely a sour gas well. There are plenty of those around here. The birds were awfully quiet, and silent. Sad really. I kind of miss the chirping and the songs that they can give off. Without those bright few songs, and the repeating notes and flashy natural generic music that flows from their beaks, the dusks and days appear, darker and lifeless. For the trees have leaves on them. The humming of insects, and other small life forms is not in the air. The feeling of life appears to be lacking. Everything feels dormant and lifeless. As if in a long sleep.

But that is what winter is. Its a long sleep really. A time where life is rejuvenating and creatures rest and keep hidden and wait for the summer months and warmer times of the year to roll around. However their is still life, lurking here, and there. Just behind my parents house is a small shed, and underneath the shed lies "Pipkin," the bush bunny. That is right though I did name him after one of the rabbits from "Watership Down," by Richard Adams. Call me pretentious, but I thought it was a nicer and more unique name then calling the poor thing "Bush," "Bunny," "Fluffy," or something generic along those lines. So I am rather proud of the "Pipkin." Yet that is how life continues to survive in these months. The world and the air is not humming with life, but it is there nonetheless and can still be seen in the most secluded places, in the most hidden of holes, and sometimes in the tallest tree's.

Our walk also had shown me through the many years of my life I had lived in this small town, nothing has significantly happened or changed the town. In fact the use of the word "Town," appears far to large for something so mall -- its best to call it a village if anything. There has been no construction of buildings in the village, other than (maybe) a house or two -- or rather the repair of a house or two. There have been no large buildings built. In fac the curling rink is still running. But one would not guess because of the state that it is in. Its almost never in use, and appears as useless and as disgusting as everything else in the village. But that is village life for you. Its stuck in a repeated cycle of never changing except for the small decaying ways until places -- outside of homes; go in states of disrepair. Such a point was proven upon taking the dog through some back alleys to avoid the few cars driving about -- where I could see the state of disrepair of some very old looking vehicles. That is if they can still be called vehicles. They were rusted beyond belief. Hard to believe tires were once on them, as well as windows, and other odds and ends. There was nothing there anymore. Just an empty rust shell of once could be scarcely called a vehicle.

Most people when they think of small villages set in the countryside, the think of pristine beautiful little villages, of cobblestone streets, tree lined ways, small little cottages with rose gardens, and apple pie cooling on a open windowsill, and a small stream and other odds and ends. The air is clear, the people are friendly, and the wildlife and agriculture domesticated animals all live on the outskirts of the village, with watchful farmers and ranchers keeping an eye on them. This all might be true, and all in some places, but in this small village I must protest it looks more like a large scrap yard with living residents. The entire place is in a state of disrepair. The old buildings look like they would catch fire like a pile of dry sticks, and hay. Everything is just sad. Sometimes the beautiful world -- or what one thinks is a beautiful world is not really that beautiful at all.

Once the dog and I had gotten home, my mind had turned away from such thoughts such as the decaying village my parents live in, and the natural scenes in which we had observed -- such as the beautiful blue, grey, green and faint yellow sky; to the pounded in snow that walks just like a sidewalk in the usual gravel back alleys; to the wild (now golden) grasses sticking up through the snow in the farmers’ fields. My mind had turned to the thoughts of Leo Tolstoy, Anton Chekhov, Honor de Balzac, Emile Zola, John Galsworthy and Naguib Mahfouz. How they wrote about life and even documented the current times of their day and age in their works. I just though such work is amazing pieces of works, in their saga's and trio's and other work documented life. In some ways I wonder what interested these authors in documenting life and what made them do it. yet at the same time I think the work of Naguib Mahfouz's "Cairo Trilogy," is beautiful -- even though I am reading it at a rather leisurely pace, but even though it depicts the mundane and unordinary life of these characters it is still a great work of fiction and maintains my interest. I can't say how it does, but for some reason, it kind of feels interesting looking into the lives of others, who face small day to day challenges in their lives, and just going on living, faced with their surroundings. Perhaps life is more interesting then I sometimes give it credit for, and perhaps that is what these authors say when they documented life itself.

Well Gentle Reader Thank-you for Reading.
Take care
And As Always Stay Well Read

As much as I can't wait to review the first book of "The Cairo Trilogy," by Naguib Mahfouz I don't want to rush through it and miss the beauty that Naguib Mahfouz writes in. Please be patient as I read the book, and so far I would most certainly offer it and recommend any one interested in world literature to read.

Take Care Gentle Reader

M.Mary