Changing Weather

And a change in the deep blue sea. Too hot too soon, but we'll have some Indian Winter and maybe another fire in the cook-stove before we moth-ball our winter dress. I need cold-pack saddle bag for my black Dell, she labors in the heat. I divide the surrounding yard into quadrants, 200 degrees of arc into manageable areas and sling-blade 10%, then bow-saw stove wood for next year. I harvest, then make a morel in cream sauce thing that Barnhart had mentioned. I find myself using Q-tips to clean away dirt and, more often, pieces of leaf mold. Easier to just eat the stuff but I can't stand grit beneath my bridge. Reading Emily's letters, my god, she was so hot, she must have befuddled those to whom she was writing, to get a letter like that really.

Oh my too beloved, save me from idolatry which would crush
us both --

"And very Sea -- Mark of my utmost sail"--

Which is Revelation I think. I was reading A Letter From Jude, the danger of false belief, and fell out of my chair. She is too hot even by modern standards. She questions the questions we ask. It would take three women I know and a dead Greek to get where she goes. All I can do is place offerings. I love my mother, who is about to die; she raised me, when my father was at sea, ,just another Navy Brat, how did Emily see? Everything she says is pregnant. There's a Smother's Brother's routine I remember. Ashley was sick and we were breaking in a new girl at the coffee shop. She wasn't very bright and didn't get the humor in what was exchanged. I wanted to shake her, you know? beat some sense into her, then I thought, fuck, that's abusive, the idea that I'd shake anyone. Emily said to Otis P. Lord:

"Tuesday is a deeply depressing day -- "

letter #563, about 1878, any connection is tenuous. D and I were taking pate to Pete, B and Sarah were walking across the common ground, we didn't speak. A pattern is established, the edges of the fractal take form. The under story, the canopy, is greening out, the tulips are proud. Make whatever arguments you will, the past is just a bucket of ashes.