08 May 2010
When I was attempting to describe the distinctive character of the month of May in the climate scheme here, I was tempted to write that it “enervates” you. However, to me the word “enervate” had a pejorative ring to it. I looked it up. Sure enough, it means 1. to reduce the mental or moral vigor of; 2. to lessen the vitality or strength of. Clearly, if one is enervated, that is a bad thing. So that is not what I wished to say at all.
My moral vigor is patently better than it has ever been, but that is not saying much. It is a lot easier to maintain your moral vigor when you are 63 as compared, say, to when your were 33. My mental vigor has not been affected. It is still very much the same. I am still a moderately bright American male with just enough mental horsepower to get him in trouble. Lastly, I am satisfied with my vitality and strength with the exception of my shoulders with which I am a tiny bit dissatisfied right now.
So exactly what was I trying to say? The rhythm of life—and I now firmly believe that there is such a thing and it is quasi-tangible thing; it is not just a touchy-feely, meaningless phrase that some artsy nut came up with—in May in San Miguel slows one down in a very pleasing way. There is a mellowness about it all just like sun tea. Sun tea tastes differently. If one drops a tea bag or a tea ball into boiling water, there is an edge to the taste that results, a bit of acidity. However, if you drop a bunch of tea bags in a pitcher of cold water and set it out in the San Miguel sun in May for an hour at midday, there is no edge to the taste at all. Perfectly smooth.
There are times when an edge is good thing. Sometimes an edge is not only a good thing but a necessary thing. For the moment, I am thoroughly enjoying the absence of any edge whatsoever.
Which brings me to the subject of my pickup truck. . .