Sunday Morning

Sunday morning up the country. Brrrr! It's cold.

Is that dew, or has it rained? Something is crunching under my feet, on the grass. Surely not ice, I looked around the garden, it isn’t quite that cold, must be sticks, or dried swan shit. The sky is grey and thick with clouds, not a patch of blue to be seen. I pull my jumper to me, with arms crossed and a hand on each shoulder. I hug myself warm, as I step over the last step and open the door to the fly house.

Pinch punch, first of the month, I think and I think of Mauri.

The first of July, I think and I wonder where 2007 has disappeared to? Nearly gone.

Half way through the year, more than half way through the decade. 2007 like 1907, will be forgotten in the rush of years to establish the decade. Those get going years that are over shadowed by what happened in the main body of the century. Cure for cancer. End of global warming. Everybody living in peace. Religion relegated to a psychological disorder. Once it’s over, nobody will ever again think of 2007.

Here we are, thinking we are all so smart, but we’re all just hanging on, really, soon to be forgotten. I got to thinking about my childhood and my parent’s working and how the world spun back then and I can’t help but think nothing has really changed. Sure, we’ve got computers and can locate the name of the main square in Bogata in a ridiculously short time, mobile phones and cars that can travel at twice the speed that we are legally allowed to drive them, but that’s revolution, simply maintaining the 200, or so, hundred year old status quo.

Still, one half of the world hates the other half, encouraged and facilitated by governments when it suits them. A third of the world is starving, as the other two thirds watches it shrivel and die, when they are not testing their latest pharmaceutical drugs on them, of course.

We’re still trying to beat the Jones’ at every turn. We’d use just about any justifiable method to beat our neighbour… and then some not so justifiable, but we’d deny those when push came to shove, anyway. Everybody has now got their eye on the main deal for themselves. We’ve all become stars of our very own universe. We’d sell our grandmothers down the river at a turn at happily ever after. Even global warming, we’re great at telling everybody else what to do. But Fiona is still driving little Brianna to private school in the biggest Land Cruiser she can find, because it makes her feel safe and because she can.

Funny the things you think when you are in the forest, watching the sun come up. The natural world, some thing real. Ah. Big breath in. It even smells different.