Not everybody’s working for the weekend

Sort of a microcosm of America, there, all within walking distance.

A pond that is often fished, whose downstream dam still runs (though its mill doesn’t), surrounded by campsites; working farms replete with John Deere equipment leaving hay rolls around to dry on the rolling hills; the big courthouse; the big jail; an animal doctor; an animal shelter; a doggie daycare; a halfway house for opioid survivors; a home for the aged; a shooting range, and.. a hospice.

There was a family over there this eve during my first break. Judging by how far away from the hospice parking lot they walked, I imagined that their loved one had died. They appeared to be adult children from where I sat, and lost as kittens. Then, I think someone called them back in, as they moved rapidly as one toward the front door. When I came out on my second break, they were leaving in three vehicles. They all drove slowly, especially the leader. Gently. To somewhere. Somewhere else, now.

And both break times, my little couple passed by the doors. She’s getting better. I could hear her talking, and down by the three-way, he pretended he wanted to go left and she was tugging him right, and you see how much better she is, now — they were joking with each other! Her gait is still stiff, but she’s not, and he’s not. They are two as one, again, no longer the one as two.

And three seagulls found something irresistible above a parked combine or hayrack or whatever the thing was over in that field. They swooped and circled over and over, and I had to go in before they showed me what in a hay field would hold a seagull’s attention. But it didn’t matter; I had already lived three lifetimes by then, because on my way over, I’d passed a different couple than last week’s, this one had a little girl with them, fishing from the bridgeway at the prettiest part of the pond.

As I came out at last, I saw a man in a black pickup across the length of the parking lot steady his camera on his truck bed side to photograph the startlingly beautiful sunset.  Solid, delineated pink and brilliant orange hues nestled into the soft gray dove feathers of dusk. You see why I stay there, all but a (too-tired) pauper for it. I would miss all this, and the deer, the turkeys, the baby robins, the hawk, the owl, a handful of coyotes, crow dances, the snapping flags, sweetly whispering trees, a mockingbird..

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This’n’that, here’n’there

I took photos of the back yard that would mean something to DH — his plantings are thriving — and sent them to him:

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(Bee balm and tomatoes; basil; more tomatoes; raised bed with squash — chipmunk got all the other stuff; and some plant he’s training up the ancient step-ladder he cut into 3 pieces, riveted, and made an arbor of.. which stands over the cat’s grave. In this growth, I see either squash leaves or grape leaves as well — I think. When we first moved here, we had concord grapes –until the birds noticed the ripe ones up high; they could just be squash-y leaves, though).

These I did not send, but here are “before” photos of the newly proposed paved ramp and trail head with benches, bus shelter, etc. (I haven’t shown the water footage below it will cut into), across the street — all abutted by a 90,000 gal. propane tank. Please, let that bus not swerve too much… Listen, if they could fit the 5-building, 13-unit condos on a strip of railroad tracks with bushes that were between this house and the next one up, they can do anything.  I should probably be thankful that the propane tank makes an airstrip impossible!!!

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And these I just liked. My ancient phone’s camera is nowhere near as good as a camera, but that’s okay; my tags never include “Photography”!..

These 4 have captions. Gosh, how long have I been here, and I’m STILL getting used to WP functions??!

[Oh, and.. I probably won’t get a chance to post tomorrow, so don’t read this post until then, ok? Ok.]


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