Nothing but blue skies . . .

I drove down to Bellmawr today, to share a lesson with BW and his mother.  I haven't seen them or Sergunchik in months, but I had a lighter-than-usual schedule this Monday, and saw my chance.  (Also, BW called yesterday and suggested we do another showcase, and I couldn't resist!)

Driving down, I was fascinated by the sky.  At one point, golden light poured through a break in some clouds high up, and the rays of light fanned out, streaking the clouds below with pale yellow and pink.  It looked rather as though an artist had taken a brush and gently smudged the edges of the rays of light passing in front of the clouds.  

When I was driving home, ribbons of tiny birds flew past over head, in undulating waves.  There must have been hundreds of them, all talking excitedly at once as they flew up and down, around and through, gradually making their way who knows where.

The sky itself was such a beautiful color - a bright sky blue at the top, gradually becoming creamier and creamier until it became the palest of hues toward the horizon.

The drive to and from was so pleasant, in fact, it felt more like an hour than like the nearly three hours the clock stubbornly insisted the round trip had actually lasted.

The universe is speaking to me, but what is it saying?

New Year's Eve, 2011.  Dinner with PAH at one of our favorite Chinese restaurants.  And just, I mean just, as we stand up to leave after a lively two-hour conversation, a couple walks in.  It is my friend since second or third grade, Deb T, and her husband of several decades.  I haven't seen Deb in several years; I think five or six.  As I hugged her, I said, "The Universe is definitely talking to us," and she agreed.  I will call her this coming week.  PAH agreed about the universe thing; he's been planning to ask her and her husband over with Jan, me (and now my guy as well) for some time.  The meeting was just too fortuitou and symbolic to be ignored.  (It is actually sort of like "out with the old, in with the old" - friend, that is . . .)

So far, the Universe seems to be speaking pretty clearly.  But that wasn't enough for me.  Driving home, I started to think wistfully about my guy, and then about brooks.  Why not, I thought (ignoring all the obvious answers to that question),  why not drive over to a vantage point overlooking Harry's Brook at midnight to see in the New Year at one of my favorite places?  And then, as I continued to drive, I refined the thought.  Why not drive over to Carnegie Lake right now, since I would undoubtedly fink out on going out again at midnight?  And then I thought of my mother, and my mother's house so close to Carnegie Lake, and decided to drive there instead of the stretch along the Princeton-Kingston Road, where there is a parking lot and easy access. 

Well, I drove to my mother's place, and drove all the way around the road going past Carnegie Lake until I found a spot to park.  It was amazingly dark, and I was wearing high heels.  Actually, as I tottered over the wet, grassy expanse toward the lake, several times I wasn't wearing high heels: they became stuck in the mire and I had to take them off to extricate them and then put them back on again.  It didn't take too many times until I was thinking that this had not been a spectacularly good idea of mine, but I was reluctant to turn back.  I proceeded very cautiously, not wanting to fall in a relatively remote spot.  Finally, I made it to the lake's edge.  I could hear the brook off to the right, and the occasional hum of a car driving across the Harrison St. bridge.  Off to the right, the lights of the cars on the Washington Rd. bridge shone on the lake below.  I could hear geese and ducks somewhere nearby . . .  And then I saw a shadowy form gliding on the water nearby.  "Ah, a duck!:  I thought.  "How nice!  How picturesque!  How -"  A really loud splash, that sounded more like a harsh thump startled me, and I mean really, really startled me, because it was quite loud.  Suddenly, no more duck.  "Well," I thought, "he's gone under catching a fish."  But I still felt creeped out, and thought it must have been a mighty big fish.  I peered into the darkness, trying to make out the surface of the water.  A large circle of ripples was spreading out.  Then I saw the form re-emerge.  At once I had the unwelcome thought, "Wait a minute.  I don't think that's a duck.  It doesn't really look like a duck ---- and ducks bob down and up again, they don't swim under water."  (I know, I know, I should have become a marine biologist with my exceptional perception and insight.)  The hideous possibility sprang unbidden to mind - it was a water rat.  A large water rat.  A really really - well, you get the idea - and it was swimming towards me. As it drew too close for comfort, I took out my keys and shook them, to startle the unwelcome critter and let it know it wasn't alone.  A loud thump, and it disappeared under the water.  I turned and walked determinedly back to the road.  I would have run, but I couldn't.  I felt rather disheartened.  What did it all mean?  What was the universe trying to tell me there?  It didn't seem like a very friendly message, somehow.  I detoured a few feet to peer over the stone wall at the brook where Deb and I played as children, and then hightailed it to my car and home.

So, Universe, I believe I got your first message loud and clear, but I'm not so sure about the second one.  Do me a favor though, please don't repeat it.  I'd rather find out myself as the year progresses.  Maybe it will turn out that water rats are sadly misunderstood, very loving, sweet creatures.  I can but hope.

Happy New Year to all, and to all, a good night.