Mid-January, Rain - January 13, 2012 |
July 27, 2008 I was appalled to note that it was nearly ten o�clock when I finally got up this morning. I suppose it is in keeping with my level of fatigue yesterday, and the buildup of lack of sleep. Still I feel the most productive part of the day has snuck by. It rained last night and is still drizzling now, in a sort of perpetual twilight. Sepia; womblike. I sit and eat a late breakfast of kefir and fresh-picked blueberries, knowing that I will not be hungry for lunch in two hours. (But, oh, the blueberries...) I have three more journals in mind, one for Rose�s trip to Africa and one for a friend of hers there, her translator, and one that will require a trip to Keene. The rest are in a box, ready to transport to wherever I decide to display them. Oddly, though, by the time that happens, everyone I first met when I came here, to whom this would be important, will have left. I will be showing my wares to strangers, most or all of whom didn�t hear my band play, or me play before that. I�m not certain why I�ll do it then, except I know one person who wanted to buy a couple of them. Maybe others will. And it might be fun for people to see something unusual here, add to the variety of their experience. I know I�ve loved the surprise of every open studio I�ve been to. Maybe I should have done it last week. It�s so quiet right now, not even birds! Just some dripping. Every night when I come back at dusk, my porch toad is on duty, rain or dry. Last night because it was raining I was doing what Ducky calls �the frog slalom� -- steering back and forth to avoid hitting frogs -- and there was this perfectly positioned toad right in the middle of the dirt road, his white chin and belly reflecting my headlights. He was so staunch and still, I had to get out and take a movie of him with my phone to send to Dar. I closed in, making toad noises, my big human finger entered the picture reaching out to touch him, and then he leapt off into the darkness and the woods. It was quite funny. I talked to Dar later and said, �It�s very hard to pet a toad.� So I�m trying not to be bummed out today. I�ve got a list of things to get done; my Celebrancy brochures arrived, and I�m a little less than enthusiastic about the overall quality; print quality is okay but I see now I should have opted for the more premium paper, and maybe the glossy coating on the biz cards. Live and learn. Anyway they were half the price of a quote I got from a printer here, and I�ll just try to blow through them quickly and do a more thorough job next time. At least I�ll have the 600 copies to the magazine on time, and that was the point. So, today I could get to the post office and take care of that; make a phone call to handmade papers and tell them to ship the backordered paper to my home address, not here; check the weather over the weekend to see about outdoor displaying and also sightseeing; call my friend Annmarie, who I think is miffed at me for not making myself more available up to now. I see her about once every ten years (literally) and though we were friends for a while in the early 80s, we really have nothing visible in common now and she constantly sends me �cute junk mail,� most of it Christian or at least God-centered (think �Footprints in the Sand�), with the usual requests to forward it to ten, twenty, or four thousand of the women I love most. I generally ignore them. Anyway we talked about having lunch, as she�s about an hour from here, and I had emailed her about last weekend finally but never heard back. Suddenly yesterday I wondered if her reply had been shuffled to my bulk folder in webmail, which I rarely monitor. It happens sometimes, someone who emails me all the time suddenly ends up there. I�ll check on that today and (grudgingly, I admit) see if she�d like to get together for lunch over the weekend. I walk the thin line between wanting to not bother and wanting to not offend. With several potential �free� days ahead, I could sightsee. It hadn�t occurred to me until last night, but since I�m up here it might be delightful to use tooling about, as my mother would have called it, as a buffer between working here and going home. Might help my soul adjust. I wonder where I�d like to go. New Hampshire is so beautiful. ******** Lunch has arrived and, as predicted, I�m not ready for it. A shower, I think, then, and off to errands. Missel thrush in the distance, and still this quiet noon twilight. Like everything is in stasis. Holding its breath. ******** Around Wednesday the 23rd I went to Keene and picked up not one but two cool picture frames, into which I�ll build the Secret Diary books. On the way back I stopped at a chocolatier�s shop and had an interesting chat with one of the handsomest men I�ve seen in years. It was terrible. I kept nodding at what he was saying and making appropriate replies while checking his hand for a ring, noting any hint as to whether he was involved with someone. Talking about happiness and passion, the things that led him to chocolate and cooking. As I left he asked me if I wanted a job in the fall. Alas, I have a job. And now I have a few chocolates, and it�s after supper and I have time to go back to my studio and try one before the presentation tonight by another singer-songwriter. Sunday Yesterday evening was beautiful, stretched out over the long fields by Colony Hall and the newly bursting grass, where a bunch of residents engaged in a long croquet game that got quite antagonistic towards the end. Finally it was too dark to see; I don't know who won, as I'd gone in to check email one last time. I feel a bit better today. There were more thunderstorms last night, violent, recurring. I didn't know there was a monsoon season in New Hampshire, but this seems to be it. At one point the rain was so heavy it no longer sounded like drops. It was more like a huge faucet. I started wondering what all the mice and other animals do. One architect here reportedly has a family of foxes living under his porch. Lunch date set up with Annmarie, for tomorrow. Evening, Sunday
Backwards photo taken with iSight camera. Nice lunch and visit, after all; still sleepy as hell. I wonder when this will clear. I haven�t heard from my healer for a couple of days; I suppose either I gave her what she needed for now, or it�s possible I�m not the actual center of her universe. You know, unlikely, but. Everyone likes my display. It�s nice to have them speak for themselves and not have to perform. I so need to practice tonight; also need to do laundry tomorrow, and pack. I can�t believe I�m going back to band business right away! I�ve had a taste of freedom, a taste of peace and quiet! I�ve been among deer! It did me a world of good! In closing, a little snippet I�ve started working on... You are the orange crescent seen through pines |
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