1 In the morning of the first hour the room was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the sleeping. And the farmer awoke and went downstairs in the dark and flipping the switch said, Let there be light. And seeing the light he said, This is not good, and turned it off, making the sacred bean drink in that dark, which was then separate from the light. Taking a sip he said that it was good, and he turned the light back on.
2 After staring without expression over a bowl of cereal for most of the second hour he rose and spread the previous night’s waters on a convenient bush outside and called this irrigation.
3 He then walked among the gardens and diverted other waters, calling some cistern-waters and others well-waters. And in so doing he nourished the plants called brassicas and the others he called weeds.
4 The porch light was still on, dividing the night from the day; and it was made diminished by the larger light rising in the east. The kitchen light, now aglow, showed the awakened presence of she who rules both night and day. And it was good that he was outside.
5 Now the fowl, that only fly with great awkwardness, were loosed from their coop. They were given two charges: pursue the small bothersome creatures that no one cares for and rapidly craft nourishing eggs. Then the lambs that bleat endlessly continued to do so without letting up: and it was not good; so he commanded them to cease; and they did not, making the farmer reconsider his decision to release these creatures upon the land. This was the fifth hour, and already he tired from his labors.
6 Yet he continued, by taking pictures of his likeness and also that of she who rules the night and day, posting them to the Cloud. Laboring still more in this realm he “liked,” “smiled,” and “angry-faced” the remainder of this time to its completion. And he said, This is merely okay good and not really useful to my day or the many things that I ignore.
7 In the seventh hour he decided that this was enough, so he called to her, Let us lie down and take a short nap before we enjoy more of the refreshing sacred bean drink. And they did, and it was a good use of their time. Whereupon they rose and piddled around for many hours doing this and that before they lay down yet again and withdrew into darkness.
And that was very good.
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Reading this weekend: Nothing Serious (Wodehouse). 1,000 Books to Read Before You Die (Mustich)
Wonderful!! I, too recall getting up early, before light, to go out and feed the various animals. And coming back into the warm kitchen with my mother stirring the cereal on the stove and seeing my sisters, and knowing all was right.
And now I, too, require much of that sacred bean drink. How wonderful to wake up to your blog on a Sunday morn!
Heather,
Thanks for the kind response, always nice to hear that someone enjoys these missives. This particular piece was fun to write. And I, at least, laughed long and hard as I reread it. 🙂
My best,
Brian
PS And please enjoy your sacred bean drink responsibly.
Nice. Very nice. I too laughed even while admiring your productivity. I am rather old now and frankly don’t give a damn about much, so sometimes I’m still up at 0500 and sometimes I wake up at that time and either is equally acceptable to me. I like a dim, soft kitchen light and deep quiet in the very early hours. I miss my horse in the dark hours of midnight and very early morning. I would occasionally visit him in the barn or in his favorite corner of the pasture and we would spend a little time just standing together and looking at the darkness. I would sometimes tell him what was on my mind and he would chuff his reassurance or congenial agreement. I have had some excellent dogs and some very fine friends but I don’t think I’ve ever had a companion more attuned to me than that beautiful, slightly arrogant, bright bay Arabian. I definitely had horses that were easier and better to ride but I never had nor knew of a horse that was both the treasure and the dragon.