Tuesday, January 4th, already?

Good morning! I am always surprised to see that the days rush past us after New Year's Day. I seem to have entered some limbo, expecting some hiatus suspended in time--and I get surprised by what's happening to time.

I think I have the reason for the expectation of time suspended for a bit.

When I went to first grade, Miss Johnnie wrote out the months of the year on the top of the blackboard, all around the room. January and February were written in white chalk , denoting Winter. Then followed across the front, March, April and May, in pink and denoting Spring. Then the board turned the corner and entered Summer, with June, July and August in sky-blue occupying the full space of that board.  Then there was the door, through which I sometimes saw my own mother passing by on business of her own and not thinking of me, which caused me much grievance of heart. After the door there was still a short board on that wall, with September, October and November limned out in yellow. A corner was turned again, and all by itself on a small board at the back of the room was December, in red chalk so rich and dark that one could hardly see it even with six-year-old eyes.  When the corner turned again, the year had ended and we had entered upon a great wall of windows which opened onto the beauties of the Lower Rio Grande Valley of South Texas: palm trees, birds,breezes. sun, rain, wind, dust. I think it's the wall of windows that sends me into limbo at the New Year. I keep anticipating that time of daydreaming that carried me across into the New Year and its railroad-track of time.

I 've always carried that visual map of the year in my mind, and used it--although I did not realize it, did not realize that I actually have always used it, until I was in my forties.  And I realized too that not everybody had it! Profound!

Word of the day is, "porpentine." I found it in a quote by TS Eliott, and it means, "porcupine." His cat was "porpentine." Wonder if it threw quills, or just seemed to. Freckles, our cat, throws quills at my husband who is gullible enough to trust Freckles and invites him into his lap.

Today I started out with memory, and went to word, and now leave you without a recipe or reference to cooking. I have overeaten this holiday, and so had for breakfast only a corn tortilla toasted on the gas flame with just a leeeetle butter  .   YAZZYBEL