Sunday, July 30, 2017
We're having fun with the occasional monsoon rains and cool air these days. There's some time and space for trips to the creek and cabin, and for getting things done with the family this summer. Not enough time or energy, but there's some time and space.
Friday, July 28, 2017
Flowers grow and poetry gets written on walls.
July is waning and school is about to come to bear in the lives of millions of kids in the northern hemisphere beholden to the industrial age's feeble version of school. Things happen, and when they go askew, it's not often that we can find a good trail toward a a place of repair or causation, so keep your heart and mind in a good, safe place.
I'm glad I have a good friend who happens to be a damned good bike mechanic, one way or the other.
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
Jesse wrecked on his bike today on his way to work- rains and weird traffic patterns yesterday for the twenty-fourth made for some slick, gravel-strewn roads in Spring City.
So he banged up his face, head, hips and knees and spent the day yesterday resting and getting his bearings back.
On top of that, I broke my parent's old Mikasa creamer that they received as a wedding present. Was making coffee and fumbled something, bringing it down on top, and thus creating ceramic chaos of the revered old piece.
I'm just glad things that need to endure are in repair, and things that can't be fixed are something I can look around for on eBay and the like...
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
From sunrise to sundown, the Burninghams made a good day of it. Jesse, Jerusha, and Tor spent the morning cooking at the Fireman's Breakfast, and the rest of us spent a lot of time and money eating their food.
The Hoopers did a fine job with their 'Pie and Beer' fest, and we all had a great time listening to Ianto's observations and questions while he enjoyed at least a half a gallon of Aaron's homemade root beer.
Sunday, July 23, 2017
Saturday, July 22, 2017
Made it up to Marla's for the big summer Burningham fest. Good times sitting and watching and talking with all involved.
Spent some time after the parade on the skate looking over this year's progress/change on Main Street and environs, and the changes continue unabated. Well, 'cept for Lee's Barbershop...
Monday, July 17, 2017
Distillation of Gravity
Within every street and road in this town
lies the memory of a multitude of dead rivers and streams
when it all comes to a close, will there be eyes bright to perceive
darkness in and amongst radiance and little lights, sagas and short stories,
or road trips and long-lost recipes of grandmother’s still, secret ways?
Trouble is, the latches no longer work
and each door and window opens wide with every breeze
or even slight nudges from passersby-
and while those with scruples and puffed religiosity
pass by without a clue to what lies within
this crumpled, foreign threshold on the future,
grass grows wild in the pastures of our neighbors.
Indeed, while gravity becomes only a theory when harnessed generously,
like relaxation on a summers day It waxes cold and wan and joins with evening
overpowering the next dawn as would a rancid walnut
bitterly hidden in a protective shell would ruin an absent-minded snack-
and, in fact, we are pulled toward Earth’s center only as far
as soil, rock, and astral dust will allow and only as far as imagination
accelerates the diamond drills.
It’s best to choose well one’s convictions, as we do our children and DNA;
a feast spread upon a mossy, hollow log in the glade
beset by mosquitoes, bears and the wind from the East (to name a few).
We are given much, and as it is to be expected
that each course lasts only a few seconds before dissolving into dust,
thick gravy, or disappearing completely,
so choose your chair and track as you might an instrument of your undoing
while remembering that every road was once a river, and every street a stream,
and hopefully your eyes only will see the light made at the end,
and yours will becomes the recipe’s secret as the unlatched door swings wide.