Showing posts with label epic saga. Show all posts
Showing posts with label epic saga. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Bedford Stuyvesant Brooklyn Brownstone Cellar Saga

If, while rooting through the unconscious cellar of your soul,
In order to expand your conscious awareness,
And to relieve your self of the burdens of your childhood (for example),
And if you happen to come across a very, very big obstacle,

well,

Some things are better off buried, so just dig down another few feet.

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Jan with a shovel attempts to remove one ton boulders from just beneath the cellar surface

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Brownstone Cellar Excavation -- Tons of Boulders!

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Brooklyn Bedford Stuyvesant Cellar revision near the Olde Coal Shoot

Friday, September 12, 2014

An Epic Saga of Serious Workers Reconstructing a Small Shed: in Four Movements

Excited and happy workers planning reconstruction of small shed.
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Workers Looking Forward

Busy workers happily begin reconstructing
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Happy Workers Reconstructing

Ladder-sitting reconstructor finishing up
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Happy Worker Finishing Up

Workers contemplating small shed reconstruction results
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Workers Contemplating





Monday, May 19, 2014

Ladies and Gentlemen!!!  Announcing, Announcing! There appears to be a serious Shark Threat near Cubicle 2278! Our security cameras seem to be focusing onto the almost-always-invisible Office Shark! As we all know, only when Shark is severely hungry, lonely or anxious for a victim does it become at all visible.

Nevertheless, Shark appears to be resting quietly in the hall.

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...Uh oh...Quiet now, don't make even a simple electronic sound. Leave all bits alone!
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Wait! What's going on here? Shark is sniffing at the cubicles. Oh My Gosh! Thank goodness we empty the building at 10:00 o'clock.  What??? The Office Empty Checker is ill?
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Oh my Heavens! Shark has figured out how to open the cubicle door. That's impossible! Aren't they all locked for the night?

I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME. SO THE CHECKER IS ILL! IS THAT AN EXCUSE OR WHAT?
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Stay Calm everybody.  It looks as though there is nobody in the cubicle, 

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Oh thank you, Spirit Winds, the office is empty; Office Shark is obviously mistaken....Whew!!!

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Wait a minute!!!  Somebody just uploaded an instagram from an iPhone... And there's a message...
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"nice, sharky, sharky, nice sharkky...
H E L P ! ! ! "

Monday, February 10, 2014

Escaped Suicidal Snowperson -- Beware!

This fascinating creature is a prime example of how anima arises spontaneously within matter that has been organized. Many of us (we scholars) talk of self-organizing systems, but such systems are not as easily arranged as they sound. However, the much more unusual phenomena is the purposely organized animated system.

Indeed, our researchers-at-large, in a secret laboratory hidden in an abandoned coalmine in Northeastern Pennsylvania, have manged to infuse this snowy creature with animism.

Sadly, the creature became so animated that he or she has fled the facility, and is exhibiting serious mental health issues! This cell phone photo was taken by an automobile driver cruising by.

Should you catch sight of this animated being, contact us immediately.  We will send a refrigerated truck.


florida snowman Christian
Desperate Snowperson -- Pensylvania
 (photo be brave person's relative  and donated by Christian)

** Similar words: arouse, awake, awaken, raise, rouse, stir, wake (up); activate, actuate, drive, impel, motivate, motive, move, propel; charge, electrify, galvanize; enkindle, excite, ferment, foment, incite, inflame (also enflame), instigate, kindle, provoke, set off, spark, trigger, turn on, whip (up); abet, boost, buoy, cheer, embolden, fortify, hearten, infuse, inspire, lift, rally, steel, strengthen; reactivate, reanimate, reawake, reawaken, recharge, recreate, reenergize, refresh, refreshen, regenerate, reinvigorate, rejuvenate, rekindle, renew, restimulate, resurrect, resuscitate, revitalize, revive

Saturday, January 18, 2014

A newborn Day with a Ponderosa

I'm scampering along in the early morning, sniffing a blade here and a pebble there, crossing over dead needles, and—oh! that amazing smell of needle green backed by the broken twig leftover from last year-- the dry pine needles, red and rich in the morning wet. Those new-day chance encounters.

I’m sure it’s right here I turn left. No, right. I just get those two mixed up for some reason. It could be because I have these feet and tail and things. In my recent past life as we know, I only had two feet (and of course I didn’t have a tail, which was a disappointment). But this multi-footed situation is much better than that time I was an earthworm! Boy! Which hand is left? Left foot? Are you joking or what?

Anyway, I’m sure it’s here I go right for a while until I reach the turnoff at the balding root. I usually stop there and dig around for a nut I lost track of. I am just perplexed why I don’t exactly know where they are! It hasn’t been that long. Well, I guess I ought to wait until the days grow longer, but the ground is soft or I wouldn’t be awake! This whole time thing is really pretty hard. I know it’s all about pulse and cycles, but who am I? Puccini?

photo
Ponderosa Pine (Santa Fe) by Susie Hermanson


Thursday, December 5, 2013

Illegally Parked Tree Saved by Bystander

Through little fault of it's own, El Innocente, an otherwise law-abiding tree, is seriously illegally parked.  El Innocente is not only within a few feet of a Fire Hydrant, but it is also in a clearly marked No Parking Zone.  Thank Goodness our Bystander arrived in time!

Several parking tickets had already been attached by the Authorities in the Department, but El Innocente was unable to pay them.  As our hero arrived on the scene, an Official was already attaching the Tow!  We all know what the Department does with Towed Trees --  well, I don't even want to talk about it.

Thankfully, Bystander was allowed to pay the outstanding tickets and to establish the El Innocente Ticket Paying Trust in Perpetuum Fidite.

We are all  exceedingly grateful.

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Tree parked illegally on Park Avenue and 94h Street

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

While Minding My Own Business,

I was traveling along in my mind the other day, searching for a random thought about a certain something, when I came across an outcrop. Not in my mind, no, but an actual outcrop from a hill.
Sitting on the outcrop, believe it or not, was a small practically transparent Pherosa. It may seem odd, since there are so few Pherosas around, but when you see an unusual something sitting on an outcrop that is practically transparent, well. That is exactly what will come to mind.
“Can I help you?” It said, and come to think of it I did need a little help with a lot of things. For one, I was concerned about what to do with the rest of my life, and so I asked its name. “Pherosina", said the Pherosa. "Rosey for short.”
 “Do you ever wonder what life is all about?” I asked.
“Not since I gave up wondering about death”, said Rosey.

I had a leaf last year, a leaf on a tiny stem, born that spring, it was a wrinkled little thing (said Rosey). It spread itself and found its lobes and oh how green it was! Shinny and dark, soft and powdery along the bottom veins.
  That small red stem became a lanyard in the stormy weather and winds, holding on to its barky root -- Oh, what a leaf!  It caught a bug or two, but leaf was a gracious soul and didn’t mind the necessary wear and tear.
  Leaf seemed to sere a little in the hot dog days, but then it blazed again in early crimson!
 Then one day almost like the day before, my leaf let go of its life. My Beautiful leaf! Deep maroon and scarlety orange, it folded and fluttered down, turning, falling --
 What happened then I cannot say. It caught itself in a circling wind and whooshed away as if it never was. Although I may have seen it floating in a puddle; I couldn’t tell for sure.

“Sit here a minute”, Rosey said, and I sat down beside. Or maybe more or less beside, since Pherosas merge a lot with those beside them.
 “Well I don’t know what to say”, I said.
 “I had to let it go”, said Pherosina. “I almost missed the stark dry days that year, the smell of pine and needle greens, the snowy mittens and new days of winter fighting for light.
 Besides I know that all things have a new beginning, even though I don’t know how they do it.”

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A Semblance of Rosey


Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Innocent Snow Being Heading Toward--Oh My Gosh! It's a.... a ... a ... a......

Snow Being goes by many names:  Little Foot, since she or he leaves no trace; Snow Drop, since he or she appears only when snowflakes stick to the Earth just so; Fare-Thee-Well, since perfection is its natural state.  Nobody knows where Snow dwells, although there are those who say there is a darkened burrow near an unknown station in a tunnel of the IRT.  The scary, wide-eyed snow being is seldom seen, and often considered to be a myth. 

Nobody knows the temperament of Snow; nobody interferes; nobody photographs, nobody records for fear of ramifications.  However, as we know, absolutely nothing, can deter our fearless and sensitive photographer from the action scene--not snow, not cold, not a scary situation. 

Hark!   Sensing danger, our Brave Photographer rushes outside, and Lo! There is Snow Being, creeping with perplexity toward a dark, round something in the road.  Our photographer, confused by Snow's hesitation, looks carefully.  There, in the middle of the snow-lined tracks, is an Evil Person Hole-Cover!  Never would our sensitive photographer interrupt an innocent Snow Being, but what else could she do? Snow Being's very life was in difficulty!  Flash! went Brave Photographer.  Click!  Click! 

Frightened for her/his life, Snow fled to safety, leaving us the only known and documented reflection of her Being.

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Innocent Snow Being on 94th Street unknowingly facing Evil Person Hole-cover

Saturday, September 15, 2012

Donating My Piano: An Epic Saga of Circumstance

I am re-doing my apartment, and my piano is very big.  It’s an old Sohmer upright from I believe 1918.   So I decided to donate it to Housing Works, a charity for AIDS-related things.  Housing Works takes pianos in good condition, but they only move them down two steps, not four, and my stoop is four steps high.  I have a contractor who is fixing up my apartment, who agreed to get a couple of guys to move the piano down to the sidewalk.  In my defense, I told them it was a Big Piano. 

 I cried over it for a little while, and then the three guys showed up to move it.  My job was to guard the truck parked in front of a fire hydrant down the street and to drive it around the block if needed.  I was watching the action through the rear view mirror.  I saw the piano emerge from the building and hover over the steps; it looked shaky; it was verging on a 45 degree angle; I decided not to watch.   In a few minutes I looked back and it was on its way across the sidewalk.  I did notice there wasn’t any celebrating going on. I climbed out of the truck, and there they were, holding one of my beautiful piano’s wheels, attached to a 4 x 4 inch splinter of antique wood. 

It didn’t seem too bad, so we left it on the curb for Housing Works, feeling it would be safe enough in this Upper East Side neighborhood.   A few people walked by and each one had to play something, if only a few notes.  Finally Housing Works shows up with two representatives, who stand there appraising this 94 year old antique.

 “This key doesn’t work,” said one. 
“What happened to the wheel?” said number two.
“It’s an old piano,” I said.  “It broke when we carried it down the stairs.”
“Why didn’t you wait for us?” said number one.  
“The dispatcher said you wouldn’t take it down more than two stairs.”
“We can’t, but we could have helped! It’s really a shame.  After all those years, and now it’s ruined.”
“It’s not ruined, it’s an antique!” I said.  There was a pause.

“We can’t take this piano,” they said.
I was dumbfounded. 
“We don’t do any repairs.  It would sit there at an angle just like this and nobody would buy it.” “We’d have to call sanitation and pay them to take it away.”
“But it’s an antique!”
“And they key is broken,” added number one. “I’m sorry.”

Now I don’t know what to do, and I am trying not to get furious and not to cry.  Here I am on the sidewalk, with a piano that weighs nearly a ton with a broken foot!  Finally my Super comes over and tries to get a couple of scrap people to pick it up, but they don't pick up pianos, so it seems.   I can’t take it back inside; it weighs over a thousand pounds. 

 “Just leave it here,” my Super says.  
"I can’t leave it on the curb; this is the Upper East Side!"
“Trust me; this piano will be gone by tomorrow afternoon at the latest."  
 “It's a piano!”  I said.  It needs a truck!” 
“Trust me,” he says. “They'll come back with a truck.”  

By this time neighbors are hanging out the windows.  Some I had never seen before.  They are hanging out, since every person who walks by has to play the piano, and they are all leaving happy, more or less.

The Doorman next door comes over to watch, and he says he'll buy me a cup of coffee if the piano is still here tomorrow morning.  My Super says if I want to be sure, put a sign on saying “Free Piano".  

The sign is up for a couple of minutes when along comes a passerby.  He plays the piano for a few seconds.   “Are you sure you want to give away this piano?” “Yes.”   “Does it work?"  "Yes". "What's wrong with it?"  "Nothing, except the wheel is broken."

 He arpeggios a couple of times.  He plays a few chords.   “You've been playing this piano, the action is great!  Why are you giving it away?"  “It's too big for me.” “How long have you had it?”  “Since 1978.”  He notices the broken key.  "This is easy to fix," he says.  “I need another piano, and I have just the spot for it.”
  
“It’s an antique," I say.  "it was born in 1918.”
“It’s beautiful,” he says.

 By now the original movers/contractors have come outside, and the contractor tells this guy he will find him a new wheel and come over to put it on.  So my three contractors, my super, and the piano guy get a couple of dollies and roll the piano up the street.  They hand carry it over his marble floor without leaving a smudge, and put it into the spot he has been saving for a second piano.  

It turns out this person is a pianist, who writes music, who loves the piano, who needs a piano, who has the perfect spot for a piano, lives two doors up the street and has a career in finance on the side.  He played a little bit for the movers, and my contractor says he has beautiful hands.  I was sitting in the Contractor Truck during the saga, watching for the fire-hydrant police. The pianist made me promise to come over and play it anytime. 

So my piano that I love has a home in a luxury apartment with a musician who writes music, knows how to play,  and who saw the value in a broken antique piano on the sidewalk for free. What a tale of circumstance and Karma.  

The night before I was talking with my mentor, Jane C.   I hadn't heard from the contractor yet, and I told her I was about to get angry.  She said, “Oh honey don’t get angry.  Sometimes God needs time to get everything in place and to arrange all the details.  It takes time to make sure the piano can go exactly where it’s meant to be, to exactly the right person.”    


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Three Principle Players in the Piano Donation Saga

Monday, September 3, 2012

Perplexed Individuals Explore the Cloud

Everyone is talking about the Cloud: the iCloud, the Virtual Cloud, Syncing with the Cloud, so  it seemed  useful to fund a cloud hunting expedition.

 And there it was! Cloud City!  Right here in New York City on the Roof of the Metropolitan. What an opportunity to clarify the ineffable! To become technologically explicable!

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Explorer studies the Cloud

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Technological Explorer Searching for the Effable
(captured by the expedition photographer)


Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Help Help, Killers! Killers!

The warnings are appearing everywhere on the news --Warning! Warning! Killer Balloons! Killer Balloons! And on twitter --wrng, wrng, kllr bllns, kllr bllns—
No, not billions u stupid person! Balloons!

Attention all available hands! Search everywhere: stairwells, closets, file cabinets, offices—
Wait! Is that a color showing in an office? Throw open that door!

OhMyGosh! Help, Help! A Pace University Person is concentrating!
  No, not just concentrating, Working!
The entire office is filling up with balloons!  
Oh No, they are sneaking up!  
How did they get past the guards?
   Call Balloon Busters, NOW!

RUN!!!

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Thursday, February 23, 2012

Flung From Axon to Dendrite: on the nature of change

Hop on, said the axon we'll find us a dendrite in no time.


Hesitating, I climbed abroad  the whitish gluey tentacle.  Sticky it was, no need to hang on. I found myself crawling easily along the slippery center track,  toward the glittery end. I felt quite confident as I learnt to balance among the whiskery filaments.

As I drew closer  to the narrow tip, I thought perhaps I ought to reconsider. I tried to slow down, and the strand began to oscillate and whip! 

I held on as tightly as I could, but there was no hope.  I made a last grasp for a filament, and Thwang!  I was cast out into the sprinkling starlit space, tumbling and turning like a helpless asteroid.  

My mind became a blank.  My life passed before my eyes and disappeared completely! What was happening?  The starlit sprinkles began to thin, and for a time I was suspended in a midnight vacuum blue.

As though in a dream, the emptiness began to fill, one shimmer at a time.  My eyes woke up and there in the far distance was a tiny, trunk-like element, swaying and bobbing like a pinkish, octopusian cobra, uncoiling closer and closer.  'I'm invisible aren't I?' I said to myself.   'I hardly exist!  That weaving thing will never sniff me out!'


Closer!  The tentacle grew fatter as it drew near.  I tried to pretend I wasn't there, but it touched my ankle, hesitated and wrapped itself around my foot!  It moved up to my waist and drew me in.  I knew it was a dendrite; what else could it be? Snuffing and snarling, it pulled me deeper into the new space of shimmers and gave me a toss. 

 I must have fainted, because I woke up curled in a sunlit cove, with gold sand and green edges, rimmed with a clear blue sky and coral flowers.  
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Friday, January 13, 2012

Innocent Prison-Building: Friday the 13th

It was an odd sort of feeling in the air that day,
A crackle and a nip and so-you-say,
Then all of a sudden there appeared at my right,
A prison-like building, and try as I might,
 I could not recall seeing that building before,
With its fires and its bars and the black double door.
The lights began to flicker on and off—it was a code!
I was certain it was beckoning to me, so I slowed--
It was then I heard the creaking and I saw the eye-like brass--
The double door cracked open and revealed a rasping mass—
It began to slink and slither out the bottom of the crack;
I was pinned to the sidewalk, afraid to turn my back!

I covered my eyes, and when I opened them the mass
Had disappeared completely and the brass was just brass!
The door was closing quickly, but something seemed screwy--
A form was on the landing that was furry, black and mewy.

Well I guess you know by now it was a messy little cat,
It turned around to look at me and then it just sat!
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Nevertheless, the other day
I went back there, and I have to say,
If I were you I’d stay away,
Those innocent doors can enchant and betray.


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Monday, January 9, 2012

Alien Attempts to Read a Book

"Help!  Help! Help!  Is this the Interstellar Police?"
 ....
"A Translucent, cone-headed alien is attempting to sneak through our window and read a book!"
 ....
"Yes, a realbook!"
 ....
  "I don't know why it doesn't get it online.   How would I know?"

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Surveillance at Local Library

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Greywacke Arch, the Real Story

Attention!
Danger!  Misty Extracto Zone!  Beware of Greywake Arch!

 Officially this arch is named for the variety of Hudson Valley sandstone with which it is built, but this is a completely uninformed reading of the term Wacke!  Look at the etymology... 
Wacke  noun
1. a kind of rock, boulder This is as far as the official definition goes. However, Wacke is (alternative spelling of)
2. Wacky.
And, Wacke is from Old High German waggo or wacko, probably cognate with Old High German wegan "to move" !
The Terrifying Truth is that we have a Grey Wacko Arch that causes things to not only Move but to slowly Disappear into one of the few remaining Misty Extracto Zones!


Look carefully at the photo.  See those two innocent fuzzy=edged dogs?    A few more trips under the arch, and the poor owner will emerge with two empty leashes.

Thank goodness we discovered it in time.

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Thursday, April 28, 2011

Inside Out

Have you ever wanted to be inside out?  I have.
I’d like to be a free lady of the wind and seasons. 
I’d like to be a woman of the late night places 
where passion breathing stars spit out virtue, 
red and dwarfed.

I’d like to hear the naked beauty of desire fed into the wheat fields.
I’d like to chip into a mortared brick and wait out the morning. 
I’d like to be born with a sweet flame and a silken web.
No more ancient, aging, ailing outer-facing rind, 
wasting with hope.

Scrape away the tired shadow mask at last.
Escape the weeping cellar full of old bones pushing through the riven boards
let’s have one more sacred candied day, a final ritzy season.
Frosted with that inside story I kept so quietly mine.
ikea statue of liberty-0125

Friday, March 18, 2011

Warning! Seductive Suicide Puddle! [Staff Photographer Rachel]

Warning!  Warning!  Suicide Puddle Ahead!
by Staff puddle finder

At approximately 4:22 this afternoon we received a report that a possible Suicide Puddle had been cited near the bridle path underpass directly down from the South Reservoir Pump Station.  Upon investigation it was determined that the requisite Suicide Puddle elements had indeed conflued.  Not only was this puddle Suicidistic but it was also a Seducing Puddle, designed to lure admirers into it's sphere.  A warning cone was placed to mark the spot for pedestrians and moving vehicles such as autos.   

Suicide puddle

Only moments later our Staff Puddle Finder found a woman at the puddle's edge, captivated.  Armed personnel were called, and a rescue was executed.  The woman's identity is obscured using advanced photo technology.
   
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Seductive Suicide Puddle

Sunday, February 27, 2011

A Memory Scape

I had an apple tree with a white painted trunk
And grass as green as the dog could make it
Round patches of it six inches high
We hid eggs in the centre where the yellow was.
It was a late blooming tree with the sweetest apples
Crisp bite, tart smelling, clear sap
Cool tongue, red with life.
How I loved the summer rain
And clothes lines wet with sheets
My chest aches for the dazzle of it
My gut warms with resonance
My throat gasps for the fragrance of it.

It was a hard winter the year they took our apple tree
Ice and whiteout blizzards
Warnings on the radio
Skidding spinning tires
Sliding downhill sideways.

There's  many seasons past by now
Since that harsh winter cut us down
Yet the roots still lay there buried deep.
The other day I came upon a  tucked and folded memory
Clouded now and jumbled but I'm certain that I chanced to see
A newly budded apple tree


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April 2010, North East Reservoir Path


Friday, February 25, 2011

time Juxtaposed

I know a lot more than I’m telling you
about the nature of things.
How this strafing life chills red blood
How the days push each other out of reach

How the nightly terrors come too soon.

Here the sharp snap of frozen twigs?
Hear the frosted grasses crunching?
Here the hissing logs burning with sap?

Bring up the bricks from the fire, for the night is a chilly one
Full of iced buckets and dying embers.
Now it’s time to reminisce
About the whistle and the wishes
Do you recall those candied kisses
We, unable to resist
In the early morning mist?

Park on Feb 22 002
Young Squirrel in the Early Morning Sun


Wednesday, February 23, 2011

A Picture in the Attic

I’ve a picture In my mind of an ancient room
There’s a streak of red dawn through the iron window panes.
I sit among the peas and string beans wanting apples.

Oh for a red and yellow apple!
Sweet, running with sap, running barefoot.
I am not a gentle lady I am proud to say it.

It could have been a morning peach amid the mourning doves.
It could have been a warming bowl with cool milk and hot oats.
It could have been the midday sunny harvest dust (and him).

I’s green now, green with peas and roasting chickens,
I have a picture though. In the attic of my mind


(I'm experimenting.......)