What I have in common with trees.

View from the kitchen this morning.
View from the kitchen this morning.
The sun was supposed to shine this morning, but it hasn’t shown up; there are hints in the distance that those shafts from heaven may strike us yet. White horizontal lines underlined in black mediate the the thick determined tree trunks, as they reach out in hope towards the return of light. Their luck is ours; we have a lot in common with trees.

This morning Attila and I are tidying the place. The dishes are almost done, the laundry drying on the racks in the living room overnight has been neatly folded and placed in drawers and hung on hangers; soon we will enjoy a quick breakfast before moving on to bread baking, income tax preparations and wood chopping. A day of quiet domestic occupations, in a world hushed behind a veil of white.

The imagination and costumes are a great way inspire enthusiasm. So I’ve found a “bread baking cape” which isn’t a cape at all, but an apron. I am more inspired by a cape than an apron though, so in my mind it has become a cape. Its my fantasy and I’ll do what I want to. Colour is good, in this black and white world of March, so today I’ll don my “bread baking cape” as I set out to mix and knead and bake.

Bread Baking Cape: to be worn backwards

Worldly Distractions


-10 °C
Condition: Mainly Sunny
Pressure: 102.4 kPa
Visibility: 16 km
Temperature: -10.0°C
Dewpoint: -11.9°C
Humidity: 86 %
Wind: N 13 km/h
Wind Chill: -1


The Cape
Songwriters: Clark, Susanna; Janosky, Jim; Clark, Guy;

Eight years old with flour sack cape
Tied all around his neck
He climbed up on the garage
Figurin’ what the heck
He screwed his courage up so tight
The whole thing come unwound
He got a runnin’ start and bless his heart
He headed for the ground

He’s one of those who knows that life
Is just a leap of faith
Spread your arms and hold you breath
Always trust your cape

All grown up with a flour sack cape
Tied all around his dream
He’s full of piss and vinegar
He’s bustin’ at the seams
He licked his finger and checked the wind
It’s gonna be do or die
He wasn’t scared of nothin’, Boys
He was pretty sure he could fly

Old and grey with a flour sack cape
Tied all around his head
He’s still jumpin’ off the garage
And will be till he’s dead
All these years the people said
He’s actin’ like a kid
He did not know he could not fly
So he did

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Pretty “cape!”


Thanks Kate, it’s a girly thing.