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7 & 1/2 Acres |
2004-10-18 - 10:13 p.m. After this past weekend here I can't imagine ever leaving: the chill of the morning and the sunshine and warmth of the day; the private nook at the dip in the path between here and the sweet gum tree; the privacy of every thing behind the house; the publicity of everything in front and the resulting young gal who stopped in about the Kerry yard sign; and the resulting preacher (he just seems like a preacher if he is or not--but the good kind of preacher who makes hospital calls and visits the sick at home) who stopped in about a sink I got laying in the side yard; and the two fellas some time back who stopped in about a junked riding mower (this place is a flea market without price tags--stop in and browse, I'll probably just give it to you; the woman and her mother who pulled in about tree work the day a hawk dropped a rabbit almost before my very eyes; the joy of the dogs walking here; the pleasure of meeting Mr. William out there walking on his land--him on his four wheeler making his rounds after having disc-ed a field for winter wheat; even the hunter's white ford parked as notice that he's out in camo sitting in a tree somewhere with his bow (and a side here that I dreamed I shot a bow and the strain it took to pull it back but once it reached past the fulcrum it was easier to hold and once I released, the arrow went straight and sure and I hit a bullseye on whatever my target was); the breath taking view along sixty four even from behind a semi weary from a long days work; the view on that certain hill over near the zoo that makes me believe in geology and the transformation from mountain to piedmont to coastal plain (it all transpires for the eye to witness from that one spot); that Kenny's boy is going to mow our yard next Saturday and that Kenny said he and Laura almost stopped in for a visit (which honestly said, touches me though I would dread it); that there are people out here--real people that are concerned with real things and unreal things like all over this world but to whom I have this particular pull; and to these trees, this soil, this very dirt that seems familiar to me beyond my own age. Today after what seems like a very long time our work brought us back to G-boro. Brought me, specifically, in the grapple truck. I was starved but short on time in order to meet the next client so I stopped in at a little college mart convience store and bought a snickers. Walking out, I saw an old professor who I also was a student worker for. I waited for him and greeted him. We exchanged pleasantries as we walked toward the grapple truck where we then stood briefly while the conversation came to a close. Now this is shallow, shallow of me, but this encounter was thrilling. You see, this professor can be a caty bitch of a man. He was always nice to me as I happened in on his good side (I do good work afterall!) but ho, have mercy for those out of his favor--the daggers out of their back. He, without my mentioning it, knew the name of my tree business (it's not on the grapple truck). He lives in an apartment and has no need for tree service. He might as well have said it plain, the gossips been going round, jeff's business is doing well--he has big trucks and fancy gear! And how good this felt. To be assuredly comfortable in the face of one who I know has shared in shit about me. To respond modestly (even if I'm bragging about it here) without the care or desire to prove, impress, or defend. I feel like I'm out of the box and happily so. That, by the way, is what would get my goat. If it's not within the box within this particular dept. then it is adamantly not good. Even the exploration outside the box is to tread to unworthy territority. Only and ONLY is the regime of what has been pronounced good, good. All else must emulate this predetermined good. This way of thinking and teaching (and living) is quite boring. I'm glad to be free of it. I'm happy in my own world--the one that I'm learning how to define and create. The one I'm sharing with Molly and our pups and cats. This life here, at this place. This weekend, we shivered in the bed, made a huge pot of chili, four quiches, stuccoed the back wall, weeded a vegetable bed, mowedthe grass, planted some bittersweet, graded a bunch of papers, watched some Kirosawa, walked the dogs, watched vultures glide, gathered persimmons, and best of all, laid in the sunshine on the sweet, thick grass. The sky was wonderful and a brilliant blue overhead. This was a very nice weekend.
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