SOMEHOW~ I missed the MUNDANE MONDAY writer’s prompt.
It read like this:
Monday, Nov. 12 – From Mundane to Magical. Sometimes we can find inspiration in the most mundane moments, such as the wisdom I gleaned from cleaning out my closet. (You can read that post here: http://www.soulinstereo.com/2011/06/monday-motivation-in-closet.html) Take some time to think back on life lessons you’ve learned while doing seemingly dull or ordinary tasks or while out enjoying nature.
So I looked around for something MUNDANE. (as I had not fully read the description of our assignment).
At the time I was at the beach.
I thought about taking a walk by the ocean. I noticed yellow tape at the edge of our dunes, and bulldozers, about a dozen or so, parading back and forth to level the sand being pumped from the ocean to build back the hurricane ravaged beaches. So I sat and watched them for a few minutes, amazed at how fast and furious they worked all through the night. No mundane THERE!
I thought of sitting on the deck counting seagulls flying by. Next door, the house that burned down over two years ago was being re-built and the crew was in full swing (set on fire by teens who thought they would distract the cops while they robbed the houses at the DEAD end road……they got stuck in the sand with all their loot and were caught, then went to jail for arson). NO mundane THERE!
This week on the holiday weekend the owners of what has been a vacant lot decided to put the roof on what has turned out to be a three story towering sunset blocker with walkover to the beach. I went through it after the workers left. There have to be ten bedrooms in there, all with small windows. I don’t understand that at all. But the porches will certainly give them plenty of view. Fortunately, the view to our house is something like looking down from a small plane. They will be able to see my bald spot if ever I get one. NO mundane THERE.
I thought, I’ll sweep the floor or do some laundry. That is my definition of mundane. But as I noticed all the sand, the dog bones, the shreds of paper that my daughter used for a collage, the rubber squares aligned from the kitchen to the den that she was also playing with, I thought, about all of the fun we had collected over the long weekend. Certainly sweeping wouldn’t be mundane! It would be like a scavenger hunt.
So I perused the kitchen for something mundane. There were Christmas tree shaped dolly Madison snacks, chips of every size and shape, shells glued to a piece of paper from yesterday’s crafts. Nothing mundane about that! And then I spotted the one thing that made me think “ahhhhh”.
There was a bowl of tomatoes, some green, some red, that I had bought on the way home from Dallas, Georgia the weekend before. I had displayed them on the counter at home in Birmingham and then carefully packed them to enjoy at the beach. As Friday, Saturday, Sunday and then Monday rolled by, they still sat there in the bowl.
I thought about the joy of the tomato, not so mundane, but nonetheless intriguing. These I knew had come from the ground in a little town outside of Atlanta. They had been carefully planted by hand, tiny seeds, watered, nurtured. As the plants grew, someone reached into the green cover and popped them from their resting place on the vine and carefully arranged them in small bins to be sold to people like me.
I stood in the kitchen looking at a bright red one, like the ones I used to plant in my garden in Montgomery. I remembered taking the time to tear open the seeds at the corner of the packet, seeds I had purchased along with those of cucumbers, watermelon, squash and zinnias (my favorite) one summer. My son who is now in college was only three. My hands were covered in black earth, his enveloped inside my gloves to keep from getting dirty. He helped me squish each one into the ground and water each hole.
When I moved to Birmingham I had two tomato plants by the pool. The vines grew up the fence and every once in a while I would see a glimpse of red through the leaves. That vine was right by the diving board, which would explain why I never got a chance to pick any of those. I saw them squished, tossed, splattered across the yard then eaten by the birds. Kids and gardens, nothing mundane THERE either.
So when I decided to slice those tomatoes that were so red and juicy, the seeds slid across the knife towards the plate. I slapped a wad of mayonnaise onto the top of it, scooped it up and ate it like I would a plum or an apple.
AAAAHHHHH GROSE, came from behind me as my daughter realized what I was eating.
Even eating tomatoes escapes the mundane at my house.
I Did NOT paint this but one day I will 🙂
I am guessing this is Paul Jackson’s but did not note for sure.
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