Another beautiful day. Work continues apace on the house and environs. After long neglect, we are endeavoring to bring things into shipshape. I tackled the back deck while the woman turned to indoors, giving the bathroom and laundry room a field day. I swept and pressure washed the deck, the adirondack chairs, the big heavy dining table and chairs. Hauled trash, cut out dead growth, weeded, generally spruced up.
Now it’s spanking clean, and feels fresh and wonderful, like the day itself, all blue sky and mad with birds, just crazy with them. Our yard backs up to miles of open land, and we’ve got loads of trees and bushes that are packed with sparrows and finches, with roufus throated towhees, black chinned towhees, Lincoln’s sparrow, pine grosbeaks, doves, scrub jays, ravens, carrion birds circling overhead, all manner of gulls drifting in from the sea, great woodpeckers and red-tailed hawks and kestrels in the tall pines on the hill. They make a hell of a racket and fill the branches of every bush and tree with music and movement. The light plays and dances on every shimmering surface and the breeze comes all tinged with salt and iodine from the sea and it reminds me that heaven is here all around us, just waiting for us to notice.
Maybe I’m cleaning out something inside myself at the same time. Opening some long-shut windows. Letting in light and noise and all the mess and clamor of life itself.
Maybe that is the case.
With that wild girl of ours living in the back now with her little baby, everybody healthy and happy and nobody locked up and nobody acting scandalous and no sleepless nights waiting for the cops or the hospital to call, it feels a little bit like the world got put together again after somebody shook it all up like a snowglobe for a few years.
The big machine turns yet again.
Last night I dreamed one dream about reconditioning the cast iron skillet and one dream about floating along in a meandering track of an endless waterpark, the water warm and blue, the walls slick and shiny, the water rocking me like a fat baby. It felt nice as hell, and seemed to last almost forever.
I don’t want to die for a long, long time yet.
I don’t want for you to die, either.
Let’s sit here till the sun goes down, then I’ll light the bonfire and we can have a couple of beers and listen to the crickets sing and the fire crackle and watch the stars spin slowly above us and shit we’ll just ride it out till we all fall asleep in our chairs. Or pass out in the embers of the dying fire.