To keep

As promised, here is the new essay. Thanks again to KenP for the link that set up the piece, or gave me a digression before I even got started on the meat of the thing.

"Did you read it?" the wife asks, just as she does every time one gets published, not that I don't know what I wrote (this ain't my poetry), but to make sure the transfer of copy went without a hitch. My answer is usually in the negative and for reasons not hers.

Today, not because she asked but more because a friend commented on the last two paragraphs, I went back to that section and had a look. I was reminded why I don't, or rather, stopped post-published proofing some time ago.

The last sentence: While its meaning can be ascertained, I am unhappy with the construction. There is an ambiguity that was not included with intention.

And now I tell myself, "You should have let it sit for one more day before having it published, just to let it breathe and then you would catch these mistakes," just like every time I have reread in the past.

You know the phrase of writing wisdom: "It is never finished." The editing is exhausting but never exhaustive, and so, at some point one must let go. I'll start working on that phase now, right after I proof the above.

In an effort

I could sleep more, I could on this overcast day, while at the same time I haven't given that first cup of coffee the time and therefore credit it might be due.

The nights have been rather extended as of late, for as the big day draws near (well, more than two weeks away and in the scheme of things more anticipated than career-making) I find other duties and desires have not taken the back seat I had planned and hoped for, so I press on with leaky faucets and P-traps, truck maintenance, and pulling off drives on sunnier days to continue with my flag series of photographs. Add to that an essay that was slow in coming because of a lack of will to wallow through the obvious to get to more subtle insights.

But today may offer some respite, and with it a nap. The wife has said she is fine without a fire until sunset, and since the heat for the dungeon is separate, so am I. I suppose I could clean the studio, organize my hard drives, start the book suggested to me or finally prune those fruit trees, supposing implying as it does. I will, however, make an effort to release another frog from the window well before it reminds me again in the dark and therefore too late in the day.

Ah, but yesterday the sun shone!

I have but a very few things left to do for the exhibit.

The essay is with the editor. Ken, you are referenced but not credited. It is for the better, no? Yet, I'll thank you here, again.

I have an appointment to inspect the alignment on the rig this Thursday and at an hour that is manageable.

The plumber should be here at any minute to refine his work.

This is the coffee kicking in.

You'll know when and if you need to read no further

In that we have extended our generosity and offered advice to two sets of young farmers in the area, I am not certain how to differentiate between them for the purposes of this blog and brevity, and to avoid future conflation.  We have business relations with both, meaning that we pay for services from one, yet both have purchased some implements and appliances from us. Both are relatively new to farming, meaning that neither had experience before endeavoring; yet, here is where a distinction can be made. One set has had marginal success with crops and have been saved by livestock and the others have done well with the veggies and show no interest in the letting of blood.

The former called last week to ask if we perhaps had a spare freezer we might be willing to sell. We did. They also asked if we had an old bathtub lying about. They had a couple hogs they had tired of feeding to-size. If I understand the procedure, the tub was to serve as a large kettle in order to boil away the skin after dressing out the animals. We did not.

The freezer, a smaller trunk type, might have been considered like-new, for we used it a very short time when we first moved here and before the wife decided a large upright would better suit her needs. It had been sitting in the garage for more than nine years but still worked as of last fall when I checked it out as a suitable temporary storage for an aging dog. (The wife is oriented toward such a future while I am prone to be ready solely by keeping my shovels sharp. No doubt a lapse in her preparedness allowed for a purchase price to be reached.)

When the man from that young farm duo came to fetch and pay, I offered to help unload at his place, to which he agreed. And once we were there, I saw they already had another freezer double the size of the one just purchased. Was there no room? No, for an elk shot this fall and a steer disposed a few weeks ago filled it to capacity. It was thought the two hogs would fill the new one as well and they would be set for a good while, the four of them, without having to nab an aging hen from the coop.

The freezer placed and plugged in, the woman, a pleasant and comely, if a bit eccentric matriarch offered pastries and coffee for ten minutes, the short time period not so much her preference but strategic nonetheless, for she no doubt figured I'd want to be on with my day; and delay and distraction are more welcome to those much busier than I, not to mention when involved in more strenuous labors.

It was at their small kitchen table the subject of butchering again arose and I was reminded of a thought: Could I come to the killing with camera in hand? Both grew solemn and denied the request.

It seems that things did not go well with the steer. Owning a scoped .306 for the prior sole purpose of taking their annual elk, the man had not considered the optics might hinder a proper siting at close range. Yet, when the right eye had been taken out and the animal remained standing, seeing the animal in such a state set him to hasten a second shot without first removing the scope. Hence, a place just below the left eye was opened. Still, the animal, although protesting loudly, remained on all fours. To make matters worse, thinking it would surely take no more than one bullet to do the deed but to have another just in case, a third or fourth was a good one hundred yards back at the house.

No, they would prefer to do the pigs in private. However, in that the price for the freezer was very reasonable, some pork ribs and roasts from both the steer and elk would be coming our way.

I will chew carefully for shrapnel. 

Of necessity

The small paintings are off to the framer and photos are being printed. There's an air of excitement blowing about in the cavern between my ears.

As is my usual course, I am thinking of one more piece for the exhibit, one of our senses, smell, called to be in the planned installation. I have an idea, but to tie the nose to language is an effort beyond the turning of a page, reading and listening. Not to mention taste in this most literal manner. Maybe two more to make, the latter called "To Each Their Own." Never mind this orifice, the mouth, is covered as audio; still, applying the same standard to nostrils eludes.

Likewise, coming up with titles that do not rely on puns has proven difficult.

One might then infer I have not been playing poker of late, it seemingly gone the way of discussing politics for neither cortisol or adrenalin a welcome surge with other mechanisms of physiology required. Besides, I cannot afford indulging my tight-weak tendencies, let alone passions of dogma.

Still, the dog must be walked, both animals fed, fruit trees pruned and that damn brush pile ashed.

The last holds promise as parts escape into the atmosphere.

Back to it

 

I went out for one last walk on the beach this morning while the wife finished packing.

There's talk filled with the ruminations most of us have after a pleasant respite in a beautiful place. We imagine a life where we step out to this every day. Or at least something like this is a short drive away, preferably down a substantial grade lest we or everything we own gets swept away when one of those big faults off the coast finally lets go. 

No, the mind does not rest on the idyllic too long. Especially when one does a search for properties for sale. 

The memories will have to do.

And now we are home, although "home" is temporary as well, which keeps this particular dreamy location in our heads. How about if it was just a fifteen minute drive? A half hour? An hour? We are already pretty close at two hours. 

Does it matter there is less sun on the coast than here on the farm? My bones say yes.

Sure is pretty though. 

But then again, I like the Mediterranean too. And there's a nice little town west of Springfield, Illinois with nice lakeside property.

Winding down

Whether long I or short I winding, it matters little, for tomorrow it rains as we head back home after a few short days on the coast.

Today was a beautiful day, warmish and sunny, which encouraged a little more exploration than the last two days of fog and/or rain. Still, a nice time was had all three days when elements from home or the kennel did not interrupt.

I let none of it stop me from taking the photos I promised.

This is the remaining stump of what was supposedly a 700 year old Sitka Spruce. They lopped off a good portion of the upper part of the trunk (to the right in the picture) a few years ago after hurricane force winds took off the part of the tree with branches. The wife, at 5' 7" provides scale.

Merely the view from the deck of the place we are staying.  I was trying to line up the top of the glass with the horizon. Didn't work.

What's a trip to the ocean without a photo of driftwood? I took this yesterday. I was out in the same area today playing with my colored flags when a young woman came up. We started talking about photo opportunities. She took out her phone to show me a very similar framing of the same root stump.

The sun's low arch at this time of the year makes photos on the north side of these rocks rather problematic.

So does the constant threat of fog.

Back to the winding or wind. The town north of where we are staying has considerably more hustle and bustle to it, especially the hustle when it comes to tourist's dollars. This shop was closed, yet I am not sure it is closed because it has gone out of business or because it is the off season. Still, it's for sale and full of kites. Any takers?  Yes?

You might want to think again. What I took to be the front of the store is actually the back. The front faces a courtyard of other storefronts, many of which were also closed.

I will resist showing you the flag photos.

Reminders

Went to get an oil change today. It was a bit under the 3K miles recommended but the road trip tomorrow will take us well beyond and I'm still feeling out the new rig for bugs and would rather eliminate or reduce one potentiality than pull over while crossing the mountains and out of range of cell towers.

Still, I had my guy, Brian, give a quick look at the front end. I had a suspicion.

"Yeah, you've got a little extra wear on the inside of both front tires."

See? What'd I tell ya? I'll figure in an unscheduled road trip next week to take care of it and cross my fingers in the interim. "Not dire," I tell the wife, for I don't believe it is.

But that's not why I came here tonight, when I should be checking off items on the 50 item departure checklist. While Brian did his thing, I did a little of mine.

Think of it as a warm-up. And pray for a little sun when we get there.

You will note the third is a close-up of part of four. In fact, the order of shooting is reflected here. I felt fortunate to see the old strap and how it roughly marked the height of the dead weeds. Still, three was easy.  Heck, one and two were as well. Maybe number two less so. But number four...

Four days on the beach is going to present me with all sorts of "picture-perfect" opportunities. Fine. But there has to be something more. After all, that's why I do this, to find that something more: The undefinable that somehow, despite itself, works.

I find myself thinking back to my childhood when my brother and I played in the woods for hours at a time doing nothing but exploring little spring-fed streams. We'd turn over rocks in the water just to see what was underneath.

Something like that.