cooking beans

yesterday was a long day and today will be the same i suspect. i
wonder where the early morning songs have gone. I am cooking pinto
beans, got up and took a long hot bath, did a little reading and right
now the smell of cooking beans is beginning to fill the house. I am
thinking of hot bread I should have made some dough last night, but I
was tired. I put in a long day, up too early and worked late, 16 hour
day. Sometimes the grind is a lot to bear but in a way I like what I
do so at times it is alright. I am wondering what this day holds.

How would it be to see to see where your hopes and dreams lie, at
times they get a little worn and tattered around the edges, some are
rent to shreds. I am wonderng if I journeyed a thousand miles and
could see a little bit of the life in each persons eyes I am wondering
what is there.


As the sun rises so does the day begin. Will it find me the same as
yesterday or will I take the time to look at something old or new and
find some good in it. Yesterday was a long day but it is gone. I want
to taste the beans this evening, maybe add a little pork for taste,
maybe a slice of tortilla warmed to the touch.


On my bench, where the silver and turquoise lie, there is an
unfinished concho waiting for the finishing touch, should there be a
turquoise stone on it, or should it be plain. I wonder where it will
be in days ahead, it will see some things I will never see. My
grandson comes in and watches me work, he plays with the tools picking
up the hammer and hitting the anvil, a file slides across the wooden
bench as he files at it. He pulled in a small box to sit on and
watches me looking at the tools lying all around. I hope that he will
learn this craft, and that I might have the patience to teach him. So
that is how it is this morning. Time to head downstairs to finish the
piece of white metal.