Glider tonight

This evening before dark, I turned the glider around so it faces east, toward the end of the porch, and pushed it back against the west railing which is covered with wisteria.

The porch light and the floor light at the living room window together produce plenty of light for reading. I stretched out sideways on the glider with my feet up and read 'On the Road' for about forty minutes.

I doubt this thing will ever make it to the powder coating place now. It has settled in and is part of the household just the way it is.

Part of me wants things that are fresh- and new-looking. Certainly my neighbors would prefer that (or at least the young couple on the east, who reminded me again this evening how great my yard would look with fescue and fertilizer, neither of which I have any intention of applying).

But part of me likes things that are old and beat up.

This glider has contact paper on it... wood grain contact paper which must have looked ridiculous because someone painted over it with brown paint. I cannot abide contact paper, and that may be the thing that gets the glider off to the paint shop after all.

By the way, those metal tubes in the chair are a large wind chime that had been hanging in the dogwood tree before it fell and cannot be used to construct centrifuges for enriching uranium. I just want to be clear about that, because my young neighbors to the east would really be pissed if I got our neighborhood nuked by Rumsfeld. Or maybe they wouldn't... who knows?