More Rain

Power back on, the very leaves are saturated, so very green. Outdoor work to do, but by the time I clean up and get another huge breakfast, power is off and it's raining lightly, mid-afternoon a major thunder cell slams the ridge. Nice set of funny phone calls, Glenn, catching up, then a silly conversation with Mom, who's feeling well enough to laugh. Full rainwater bath, a little soap going a long way, the water so soft; finally wash my hair and discover an engorged tick, great, living in West Nile Township and all. Doing some editing, but have to shut down when the lightening starts and then the power goes, so I read for several hours, sitting on the floor with a cushion, and my back against a patio door to catch enough light not to strain my eyes. Thought about the Post Office for a long time today, how they've put their gloss on geography. Their grid, that they overlay, has little to do with anything other than roads. I'm a Blue Creek mailing address, but that isn't really a town and it's in the next county over. The shore is a river community, both sides, they got their mail by packet, everyone over the ridge-lines on both sides, got news from the interior, then, a much slower method of transport, a wagon and a couple of old horses. A canting Amish horse pulling a carriage might make 4 miles an hour, the Ohio often flows at 4 knots, a pair of old mules pulling a wagon might make 2 mph. I remember a trip to Missip when I was maybe 10 or 12, cousin Wanda was hot, and her brother Kenny was Daniel Boone, and we took the wagon, pulled by two plowing mules, down to get the mail and pick up some groceries. At some point I said I could walk faster than the mules were pulling us, and he said, yeah, but we weren't walking. I understood then, the way things would play out, the carrot and the stick. How I would always choose crazy women, because I prefer them, to anything normal. I have a history, some things you don't want to know.