As a data center manager, I often got to work before sunrise and left after sunset. On days when I wasn’t working, I was trying to cram months worth of chores into the few daylight hours of every weekend, so I rarely took the time to look at the sky.
My life has changed since I left MaBell. My job title now is freelance writer, singer/songwriter, fly fisherman, and sometimes house hubby, because my lovely spouse still works (touchy subject).
So with my new responsibilities, I have more time for the finer things in life — like looking at the September sky.
It seems the tornadoes that wreaked havoc in Alabama in April, took the mild weather with it. All of a sudden the days were hotter than an asphalt worker in August, and the sky became hazy.
When the tropical storm Lee came through recently, several folks considered building an ark, but when she blew off to the north, she took the blistering temperature, and hazy skies with her. Sorry about that South Carolina.
For the past week, the sky has been electric blue with clouds as white as angels wings.
My garden was a mess, but every time I walked down there to do a little weeding, it was so hot that I ended up looking like I’d been swimming with my clothes on.
So yesterday I pulled my canvas lawn chair close to the tomatoes on the fence line and I weeded the garden. I took my time and enjoyed the work. The sun was warm on my face, but the breeze out of the northwest made it feel like I was in Colorado, or San Francisco.
Off in the distance I could hear crows fussing about something, and tiny humming birds were zipping around like they’d been mainlining Mountain Dew.
They’re getting ready to head further south so they are tanking up on nectar, and the sugar water we feed them.
When I finished weeding, laid back in my chair and sipped on my sweet tea. I thought of my colleagues that I left behind at the phone company and I wondered what they were doing.
I’m betting they were working on some broken down computer, and listening to customers from all over the planet scream at them, as if a broken computer really matters in the scheme of things. I can’t say that I miss those days.
Now I’ll be the first to admit that freelance writing, playing music and fly fishing don’t pay quite as well as working for “THE MAN,” but there are some benefits that don’t show up on pay stubs — like a September sky that’s as blue as a morning glory.