Wow — I moved into my new place in July. It’s not until now, at the very last breath of September, that I find myself where I imagined being the whole time: sitting around a demure little fire in my immaculately cultivated back yard while twilight fades out above me, composing a blog over wireless, the beer at my feet slowly exhaling its carbonation into the salty atmosphere of Bellingham Bay that wafts up Squalicum Parkway in the evenings.
I’m still sore from installing that damn wireless router yesterday — running cables through my 24″ high crawlspace is *not fun*.
But worthwhile, for sure.
Damn it, a hot coal just hopped out of the fire and landed on my foot.
A flock of Canada geese just flew by overhead, dimly silhouetted in the last afterglow of twilight — heading south in anticipation of what will be, Ia hear, a rather cold winter. I can smell my cord of wood from here — light notes of alder and birch on top of aromatic cedar and tannic maple. The smell of it when I was stacking it reminded me of my childhood so acutely it almost hurt, but it’s an altogether pleasant smell now. It is so peaceful here.
Fucking mosquitoes. Time to invest in some more citronella.
It’s funny: I’ve been so busy and so otherminded over the last three months that I think I overlooked what a landmark this is in my life. Place (and more importantly, a sense of rootedness, of tangibility) has always been important to me, yet I’ve been living the transient life of apartments, condos, and rentals for almost a decade and a half. I feel like I am finally standing on bedrock again.
Michael Dodd, that dirty rat, posted this to my last post (which is only a couple of months old):
Aged words grow staler
Dark corner of the internet
A blog’s lonely death
This blog is not dead, Michael. It’s simply in cryogenic sleep.
For those of you who may have been wondering, I’m not dead either — but neither have I been sufficiently animated to be blathering on endlessly about myself or my undertakings. Actually, I’ve been very animated — setting up my house just so, landscaping, working fiendishly, etc., etc., etc., ad nauseum, e pluribus unum, and so forth. Good times.
I shall return to blogging soon, but the nature of the blog must change. For I am bored.
Peace out.
P.S. I hope I’m not the only one currently enjoying Gov. Palin’s journalistic misadventures. Good stuff.
last night in this house
we mop the dust of good years
tomorrow’s too soon
On that note, I am shutting off my computer in this location for the last time.
Gods, I’m tired. Evidently my allergy to cardboard dust makes my hayfever look insignificant. Tomorrow will be so exciting!
…and I have proof. Tamar, my neighbor across Ellis St., knowing that I am a particular fan of the sweet pea for its color and fragrance, cut the first two sweet pea blooms of the year and gifted me with them. They are sitting in a small water glass next to me now as I type, perfuming my air and giving me a marvelous case of the sniffles.
In other news, I am now a (mostly unwilling) member of Facebook. Humph. You can only drag me into the 21st century kicking and screaming… but I do appear to have arrived. What next? Twitter?
winter hit kitsap
but summer came to whatcom
cured the destroyer
The (pseudo)haiku is a lousy form of poetry. This is just a codification of events — the death of Barry and Heather Bryant’s youngest back in my home town, under tragic circumstances, the balmy air that has finally found us in late June, and the overwhelmingly good news that Ron is cancer free.
This post is a homage to Lauren’s friday haikus… if you read her most recent post, you’ll note that she drops an f-bomb below the fold. I take this as a sign of my influence on her.
And on that note, the week is over.
