October 2, 2010. Saturday.
Situation: Moi is working all day today, and I have to work tonight. Shortly after I get up, Mway slams the door shut on herself, and she would spend all day in the room, if I didn’t open it up for her. I check my emails, make a phone call, do some preparatory work for tonight, have a Ramen noodle stir fry brunch about 1:30, do the dishes, haul out some equipment to the car, and 2:30 turns out to be the best time to take Mway for her walk. That’ll give me time to write up the walk before I take a shower and shave for work tonight.
State of the Path: The chickens are milling around the back door, so I toss them some feed. I can’t find the birch branch, neither on the bench, on the ground, nor near Mwayla’s pool, and I hadn’t seen it in the music room earlier. But when I go back inside, I do find it in the living room. I hear a thud in the outbuilding, and a big black-and-white cat appears at the door. It sees me and runs back inside. Mway, just up the path aways, hears it and runs to look for it, but soon joins me back at the path. I decide to stay on the main path today, to enjoy the more or less clear-cut I made yesterday. A grape vine twines over the top bare branches of the sumacs. Fallen maples leaves, curled and almost white, cover the ground around the wigwams. Most of the ironweed has turned brown, but there are still a couple flowers on a plant just before the pin oaks.
State of the Creek: There’s still water for Mway to step in at the tree stand, take a sip of, and splash around in. It flows steadily, brown and clear, not quite strong enough though to be heard very loudly, just a faint gurgle at the rock cascades. The cow piss foam has dissipated at the log jam. Grasses, some unknown plant, and even some lady’s thumb lie under the water, waving with the current. A frog plops in the water below the big locusts and swims into the roots of a big tree on the opposite bank. The vinyl siding has disappeared, but I find it a few feet downstream, wedged under a bush and some roots.
The Fetch: My muscles feel sore as I bend down to pick up the stick. Did I wear myself out from clipping and mowing yesterday?
2 comments:
And the life of a cattle heeler might not be all it’s cracked out to be. It could be long hours, low pay, dangerous working conditions. You probably wouldn’t have the time to lie around and read Joyce.
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