I hear an early bird singing, perhaps a robin's rain song. Or maybe its a thrush. So hard to tell through double panes of glass keeping sound along with the intended cold air.
I open the slider to smell the air & hear the birds. Cold air streams through the small opening and seems to run down my bare legs like water from a spring. Now I hear the wind in the pine as well as the birds. Surely that's a thrush's melodious call from within the cedar swamp. And the robin somewhere higher and closer.
I love this time of day, but you already know that. Driven here by a bitchy partner complaining about how close to the middle of the bed I am, I think I'll just stay here, now laying on a comfy couch under a soft & warm blanket, and watch the sky lighten.
There is a science that studies the patterns of an author's writing style and can tell with a fair bit of certainty whether a contested piece was written by him or her or by someone else. In Stephen King's book, "UR," he talks about this a bit. The premise is that a magic, pink Kindle can access and million alternate realities and download the books of well-known and obscure authors from those realities. So in one UR world, Hemingway lived a longer life, wrote different books as well as some familiar in our world. King, as narrator of the story, or perhaps its a character - doesn't matter - talks about the staccato writing style of Hemingway being clear in his books from other realities now on the Kindle and goes on to describe the recognizable traits in other author's work - at least the main trait an without too much detail.
I bring this up because it came to mind as I was typing well on in another long sentence that any english teacher in primary or secondary education would order you to break it up, BREAK IT UP, MAN! So my writing style is long sentences. At least when in a tired state or a pained state, or a drugged (ie., medicated) state of being. Right now I am the first two and more the second than the first. I'd love to be in the third but I've a church service to sing and some of my meds make my voice deeper and raspy, not a side effect a singer needs. Its tough enough singing so early in the morning.
So, I doubt anyone has read this far. If you have and you are NOT an acquaintance, please comment so I'll know my crazy rambling have reached other living souls on the planet.No need for names, first names/nicknames only please, kinda like Car Talk. Where you from? What do you do for a living? Do you come here often? Do you have ypur own blog?
I feel like I should say maxi-blog or something since the new word and trend is "micro-blogging," which," for those who don't know, refers to systems set up to reach an audience in brief bursts. A good example would be twitter, which allows only 140 characters in each posting ("tweet").
So, anyway, I was trying to sign off then put a whole nother paragraph in, and now two! Read above aboit commenting and some questions you might consider answering in your comment. Guess I am too lazy to set up a survey form, but I really think commenting is best for this type of media. Ohan yeay, a few more questions: -s this your first time to Cedar Eden: The Blog? How often do you come? Or Will you be coming back? For the newcomers, how much do you like Cedar Eden: The Blog. For the seasoned vets, why do you keep coming back? And for all, rate the blog on a scale of 1 - 10 with ten being highest for content, voice, and overall experience. (Being kinda facecious here, poking fun at or parodying other outreach methods, but answer that last one anyway.)
So there it is, a string of questions you can answer if you like, by commenting on this submission. Question ideas are in the paragraph above and the second paragraph above that one (third from here,
Funny how this all started with an insight piece on the beauty of the earlt morning. I'll fimish by noting the melodious charms of the wind chimes ringing away like prayer bells in a howling wind. The howling wind is directed towards the wind chimes ratjer than the prayer bells. Oh, never mind. It is over - fun while it lasted but I got nothing left in me