The calendar year is more than half over.
Days slip into nights in the July of Oregon.
Working some on the house and the land.
Working through. Working at.
I don't know why I call it work.
It's just doing the thing of moving.
Finding my sense of humor when it
gets misplaced, as well as my eye glasses.
I look old, I sound old, I feel old...
but, I'm not. I never grew up.
In fact, I am still ten and a half.
But some adult in my mind, I don't know
where she comes from, keeps telling me
to do stupid things, like plant flowers in
the yard. It's tough to ignore, I tell ya.

I have two houses

January 29, 2019

I have a house in Oregon
And a new house with mortgage payments, in Illinois.

I found the little house in Illinois after the summer in Oregon.

So now, I spend time in both places.

The Illinois house is slowly being filled with things that I want to use. Such as dishes and cookware. I have one chair and a bed. and some little side tables. And two lamps.

I have not seen as many people as I have hoped to. But, perhaps I will before I return to Oregon after the end of February.

The weather has been on and off snow and cold temps.

I have been trying to come with a plan of some kind. A next step. And I figure it is to enjoy and to love. And not to dwell on things that I can not control or change.

Loosen the grip. Less worry. Accept people as they are. Listen. Be kind. LOve

part of me

more than anywhere else i know, it is a place of united tradition and holding on to what has always been. change, bound to happen, is financial opportunity slow to arrive, and a transplanting of the outcast; strugglers coming into the land of old hands at struggling, and a return of the retired. 

trucks, full of the big city’s trash, come one after another to empty their load in the pits, made where coal company machinery ate farmland. scattered everywhere are tracks of coal mining lakes that the company didn’t bother to fill in.
mosquitoes thrive in the warm humid landscape of summer, bug spray a common purchase.

in this place are the few people of a simple faith. a set strength of humor and caring, is prevalent, keeping the odds at bay. prayer chains, and family is the string that holds the brown paper folded against the package. 
relation dots the countryside.

baseball is considered the national sport and the small schools do well to keep a competitive field. some of the best players have grown up in this place. this place of corn fields and lighting bugs.

it begs one to slow down and listen, restore an old car, have reunions, stop to have lunch with friends. a place of town-wide garage sales and friday fish fries. 
upcoming events hang by a push pin on corked boards. and some think that there is nothing going on.