There is one blossom blooming on the pear tree by the balcony of my loft.
Cheery, plum, almond, apple, and a sunny yellow NoCali offering is blooming crazy showing out all over West County. But at Woodstone Corners just one little pear blossom has been brave enough to show its lovely face. Maybe she’s shy? That’s OK. Miss Pear Tree will flower like a trooper when she is darn good and ready.
I had errands to run and the day was just perfection. The ocean at Portuguese Beach was a dapper cerulean blue. The sky, a sumptuous bed of marshmallow clouds. Pairs of everything lit up the emerald green countryside. A pair of ducks splashing on the side of the road in a puddle the size of a wading pool. A couple of cows sunning themselves, obviously enjoying each others company away from the rest of the herd. Twin chickens pecked about in the short grass for a seasonal organic luncheon.
It was one of those days that mark a new beginning. A truer way of being. Haunting but in a good way. Sweet and wild. A day like the day I first heard Coltrane. Something captured all of my senses and sensibilities on that magical Coltrane hearin’ day, and I have never been quite the same.
I was walking on the bluffs above the river where the steel mills ran 24/7 in those days. A certain iron fueled, acrid, blanket of scent would rise up from the murky water around dusk everyday. It was a Sunday.
I could hear the grown ups laughing and carrying on as their weekly traveling poker game ensued. I don’t think there was a real gambler among them. Life was hard. The card game was the Great Penny-Ante Escape. You could hear the gratitude in the laughter and banter.
It was Summertime, every window on Cliff Street was open. Everyone’s business was in the street. The fella living in the brownstone across the way had his Admiral Hi-Fi turned up loud. Coltrane’s version of “Out Of This World” kissed the air and lingered like the ever-present smoke of my Aunt Joyce’s Kool Menthol’s.
The sound of that music made me feel more alive than I had ever been. It shook me and grounded me to the earth at the same time. The feeling was overwhelming and then came the tears.
After the tears came a blissful smile I could not wipe off of my face. I remember thinking, this must be how angels feel when they go back to heaven. I wore that music home.
This one pear blossom day felt so familiar. Life affirming and real. A Love Supreme. Like hearin’ Coltrane for the first time while angels laugh out loud in heaven.
Have a sweet one!