“These days, the fire is out when I get home. But I don’t notice. Because the house holds warmth, while the sun is building power. I drove the long way home today, after work. We had one of our easier days, due to last year’s efforts. There were still chores. Roses we’d wrestled into what loosely might be called “submission” were cut, and mulched. After decades of unbridled growth, which is fine. But it seems many of our jobs involve what we fondly call “big digs”. Eventually, there will be a reckoning, even in the most wonderful gardens, if left too alone, for too long. I feel pride, I guess, for having gardening bravery. I can take charge with authority, where things have gotten out of hand. Maybe this is also true, in my personal life. I haven’t talked about that much, of late. I still feel all the gouges on my life, deeply, but am more private about it. It’s a small circle, who understand. Perhaps the circle would be wider, if I could see into the hearts and minds of everyone. When people come forward to me in full honesty, it’s an incredible gift I never take for granted. But mostly, people keep their hurt close to their chest, out of fear of reprisals, or being shamed. The Johnny Cash song about this (“Hurt”) is one that pierces me to the core. It’s not just about drug addiction. It’s about managing our feelings. And staying alive, despite the pain. So many interactions the past couple weeks, have pinned me, like a needle on an audio compressor, showing me how the intensity of my life is reaching distortion level. I do lose myself in hours spent, on less traveled roads in my truck, imbibing rare occurrences, when they happen. The happenstance of sunlight breaking through clouds, illuminating sections of our wild territory, strikes randomly, I guess. It can make me weep, or veer sharply, onto the nearest pull off. I can say in all honesty, if there is no pull off, I can get extremely irritated by modern road building. Some of my most coveted stretches of the White River, are totally not amenable to anyone stopping, to gawk or contemplate. You will risk your life, and limb, to do so. Better pick a milder spot, and be contented with less. But no. I will not. Anyone who knows me, has seen me refuse to accept unspoken restrictions, that have been imposed on me, without anyone having had the balls to tell me. Wake up, my world. I will always love you more, than you loved me. ”
