I live on just this side of Como Town where everyday is full of sunshine and sparkles and everybody is clean cut and honest in sporting their sporty Midwestern summer attire.
Everyday is pretty much the same in these parts. Most days I awake after a restless night and usually there is a kitty lying next to me on my futon. It's not always the same kitty but I let the trio work it out between them who gets the special spot. The other two are usually in the vicinity so as I get out of bed I waddle on over and pat them on the head. After I get out of my shower the three cats are waiting for me outside the door and again I pat them all on the head and wish them a hearty "good morning!"
This past Saturday things changed. The auburn haired lass, who has a magnificent green thumb, stopped on by to help me clean up the mess that was my front yard flower garden. She brought over a bevy of plants and we spent the morning cleaning up nine years worth of twigs (that's the spot I threw the yard waste I found lying around my yard), and moving a horde of Hostas to the other side of my front steps and down my sidewalk.
With bags of garden soil (I was supposed to have gotten potting soil which I learned after the fact was much lighter) and mulch we transformed my front yard from a minor eyesore into something that actually looks good. My heart was also a bit transformed by watching her interact with Thompson, the three-legged cat, who seems a bit leery of anybody, and anything, outside the realm of the norm. She seems to be about the only one Thompson will prance on over to without thought, and ask for a belly rub.
All three cats got somewhat worked up as they watched us from my living room window. Whenever I had to come inside the three of them would run around as if all the commotion out front was going to mean something special for them.
The auburn haired gardening expert told me that digging up weeds, dead heading plants, watering her garden often serves as her therapy. As proud as I am of the work we got done I'm not sure I'll ever share in her relaxation technique. I've never been able to distinguish between a weed and a plant, never been able to put the effort into learning about all the great looking plants that could add some beauty to my nearby Como Town abode.
I imagine the closest I come to knowing what she feels when she's done with a night's work in her garden is when I listen to my music. When we finished our day long project I sat down and spun and clicked my iPod's buttons to the "Albums" menu choice and hit Smile. Up came both Brian Wilson's masterpiece and my favorite Jayhawk CD.
The two CDs' songs were intermingled but I was reminded how much I love both. A musically astute married couple bought Wilson's Smile a bit based on my highest recommendation, and they told me they didn't see what its appeal was. I was a bit surprised by this confession because to me it's eclectic song cycle is irresistible in itself. Still I understand how the sheer goofiness of the music might not appeal to all.
The sunny shimmering music of the Jayhawks' CD that shares its name with Wilson's CD may or may not directly acknowledge the connection between the two but the Minnesota group's song cycle includes a song called "Brian Wilson" that is a nice tribute to the wacked out crazy genius. The best song of the set to my ears however is the can't quite ever get this out of my head no matter what mood I may fall into "A Break in the Clouds" that seemed even more perfect on this particular night. "I just want to remember you/The way you're standing there/With that hurry home looks in your eyes/And flowers on the table/Sometimes I see too much/ Sometimes I see too little/Sometimes shadows fall, darken all/And cover up the fable/Every time that I see your face/It's like cool, cool water running down my back..."