arliss | (no subject)

The slacker that I am, I put off gathering and taking out the trash, which includes checking the fridge and freezer. Yes, I freeze chicken skin and trimmings and other unlovely food scraps. If I throw them in the garbage outside it gets raided. Inside, it smells. Frozen, it bothers nobody, and is clearly labeled to avoid confusion. And since they're collected on the same day, I also had to gather and put out the recycling. Because we had little, I didn't put the recycling out last week, so of course this week it had to be arranged carefully to fit it all in the bin. I played with the idea of setting the alarm and getting up in the morning in time to put it all out, but we all know that usually ends badly. I knew I had to do it, and preferably before dark tonight, because, well, cold. And dark. Still I lingered at the desk, until my westerly window showed a lemon yellow slice of sky limned with brilliant neon vermillion. Ooh.

I grabbed our recycling and hotfooted out onto the deck, paused in appreciation of a truly masterfully composed Parrish-worthy sunset, and went downstairs to fit everything in the bin. Which I did with the porch door propped open so I could glance up as I worked and watch the progress of things skyward. The neon glow had spread all across the sky by the time I'd winnowed the non-recyclables Mom insists on throwing in, and carted the bin out to the curb. I scooped up her trash and took it out to the cans. It will probably be a lot easier once the citywide curbside-only trash collection takes effect, but for now our cans are still out back. I went back upstairs to empty all the wastebaskets and reline them, bag and tie everything to haul out. And when I stepped outside again, the sky to the west was dull and dark pewter--but in the east the full moon had just risen, in a space clear of treetops, still slightly golden from the last tinge of sunset, placid and huge as a hen's egg.

It's lovely when one's virtue is instantly rewarded.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That sounds like such a beautiful morning. There are rewards for getting up with the sun.

Umm, okay, I feel dumb, but I now realize you were talking about sunset (as you clearly say). I guess my trash taking and recycling usually happens in the morning where I am occasionally rewarded with a beautiful sunrise.

Hee. Well, if I'd waited, it would have been a sunrise. *If* I could have gotten my rear in gear early enough to deal with the haulage and the cold. I've gotten soft, I don't do really really cold mornings, any more.

Heh, so I'm not the only one who sets her alarm for5:30a when I just can't bring myself to it the night before. Yay. OK, so, only a couple of times. Still. My favorite was the morning I walked two bags down the driveway and right into the waiting hands of my garbage collector. It was funny. We laughed.

I've done that too. I almost ambushed the guy as he passed me going into the back yard. We both laughed, too.

That is absolutely lovely.

It also motivated me to get off my tail and haul the trash out from the side yard (all snow-covered) and out to the curb. I was going to try the early morning thing, but now I can go to bed knowing the chore is done.

I also took a few minutes to enjoy the snow. I love the way snow looks at night.

Yay for virtue! When virtue is defined by the good old Puritan ethic.

All that trash talk (LOL!) and yet you evoked some beautiful images :)

Thanks. It was gorgeous. Well worth braving the cold to get the tasks done.

Isn't it wonderful, how ordinary life can be so grotty and dazzling at once?

All my poems, back in the days when I actually wrote poems (it's all very vague, now, regretably), were known for mostly being about minutiae: bugs, grass blades, sun shining through blinds onto a polished wood floor. I've never been a Big Picture girl, but I can lose myself in the minute and mundane.