Acair Fearann

(my politics probably don’t match yours) (once in awhile, the fact that this is my blog as well as the house’s will be asserted)

If one more F*!$#@! person or media thing tells me the recession is over, employment is climbing, inflation is not happening, and Obamacare will not cause my health insurance to double in cost (and cover less)….well I won’t scream, I won’t hit them, but I will consider them to be in need of serious, immediate psychiatric care or to be immoral F*@#$!, depending on how charitable I am not.

My hours are cut, the two businesses I am connected with (one retail, one media) are practicing scuba diving, and yes my insurance has gone up by another $100 a month.* We won’t consider the lie that is the Federal inflation calculator, you know, the one that does not include food?

*I haven’t gone to a doctor in 15 years, either.

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Had a must enjoyable day on Sunday, my dad and I took the green truck (Chevrolet, C10, 1970, long bed with step sides) down to the local car show. It isn’t actually ‘just’ a local show, it is open to everyone with about 500 cars participating, no awards; one can see some really unusual things there, which are there just for the sake of it; it’s more of a ‘car appreciation’ event than a ‘show’.

The green truck required chasing out the mice and inflating the tires; I didn’t even have time to wash it.  It is essentially stock, a working truck. The last time we had it out was to collect trash for the land trust. The thing is though that the show illustrated several variants: work, show, modified, museum.

A work truck is never modified for the sake of modification nor for aesthetics. If it runs, it runs. If it is modified, it is modified to make it more usable: adding a tow hitch, changing the mirrors, the shifter, the angle of the brake pedal. Show is restored to what it would have looked like on the show room floor.  Ideally, the serial numbers match, but more importantly it looks like it just rolled off the floor. Modified is the hot rod: hot rods are modified for use, but the use is essentially a luxury concept. Hot rods are toys, toys a few people can make a living off of, but toys nonetheless. Museum is restored but only if it doesn’t erase what has happened to it.  Work and museum tend to overlap; but the museum piece is frozen, no more change can occur.

Or something along those lines, which are all easily erased, challenged, and ignored!

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Reverse Hibernation

After months

The languid heat

The sun’s great bounty

Left me drowsing

Seeking life in the stone cold shade

So

When the nights grew longer

And the shadows deepened

Darkness fell around my shoulders

I awoke

To the cutting chill of Autumn

Frost’s bright diamonds

Glitter in the dying sun

The trees are its funeral pyre

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I love Scotland, but the British Empire more.  Now, if they can just solve their very real problems….

(yes, I hit the ‘refresh’ button all night on my computer!)

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Male wild turkeys are rather impressive birds, especially a whole flock circling about the house in search of food.  Very talkative group too, rather like a flock of busy chickens.  Unlike chickens, the males get along quite happily in bachelor bands for a good bit of the year. I think this group was enjoying the seeds from the cucumber (false) magnolia tree.  They certainly seemed rather pleased about something anyway!

Is it really time for a second cutting of hay? I suppose it is.  Bit of a shrek last night in the dark to come around the corner into the barnyard to find the tedder and tractor parked in the lot.  My horse will be happy, eventually, right now of course he is locked up in his little paddock.  Great hardship!

Too many yellow jackets this year….I haven’t gotten stung, but other people have multiple times.  We had sort of been running on a live and let live policy, I think that is at an end.

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It has been decades, centuries nearly, since the road was a quiet road across the hill, white in the starlight.  Yet tonight, walking back home along the widened, paved highway where the average speed is somewhere near 60, there was the briefest sense of that silent pale ribbon that wound down the hill.  It was cold, the cold of early fall when it is summer still, when the crickets are still singing and the bats are fast-flying hunters above the fields. There was a lull in the traffic just then and only one car passed. I wondered what they thought of the woman in the long, dark skirt, her hair up in an old style, walking down the road in the night.  Nothing at all I am sure, if even they saw me.

If ghosts walk, it is not in the cemeteries, but on the long roads that no man walks today, where ten thousand travelers pass and not one knows the way itself.

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I take a meander about the grounds and reflect appropriately. That I should be so lucky to live here! The soaring trees, the shadows and the light, the long, wind blown meadow grass alive with the singing crickets. The deep cool club mosses, a thousand flowers.

The glory of world lies before me. The challenge lies in embracing this moment, this here and now, and not wondering about the inevitable future. And if one considers the future, who is to say that the gain will not outweigh the loss. If now is alive in beauty can the future be less?

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