Later

Wearing this many layers, I have to start unbuttoning before I even feel the urge to pee. A guessing game. Some squeals, death by night. I don't even go see what. Something met its match. Zero at dawn, I scramble to get started, dump ashes, knock down the creosote, brew coffee, wrap in a blanket over my bathrobe, curl up fetal on the sofa, finish "Suttree". Cheese grits and left-over toasted biscuits for breakfast. Brutal outside, 4 degrees and windy, I have to wear a facemask, and the brimmed insulated Gortex hat with earflaps, even thus, my time outside is limited to short walks and trips to the woodshed. Dabble in Proust, madman in his cork cage, but what a style. One of my favorite phenomena happens, sparkling crystals in the air all around. They're almost weightless, so drift about. Tiny drops of moisture pulled out the air by the cold. So beautiful, filling the hollow. I think I once knew the name for this event, but I've forgotten it. Last time out for the day, I was walking toward the afternoon sun and didn't have my sunglasses, an instant headache, and I turn right around, to get back home and self-medicate. By 4 o'clock the house is almost warm, and I can shed the blanket. I finally get the stove to spike out (the oven thermometer goes to 600, the stove weights 800 pounds, a lot of stored heat) with a mixture of Osage Orange and Red Maple. If a day starts at zero or below, I don't intend to do much. Mostly I shuffle between the island, close by the stove, and the dictionary table, at the other end of the room. Today I look up 14 words, check 3 Greek mythologies (fucking Dahlberg), and spend at least an hour rereading definitions in "Home Ground", my pick as book of the decade. A great day, fairly normal, for a day I allow myself to take almost completely off. I thought about going to town, carrying a load of supplies up the driveway, but blew it off, when, at 2 o'clock I looked like a rag-picker. I don't need to improve my appearance until late tomorrow, and I need to work wood again before then, get set for the week ahead, packing up the Circus Show for a trip on the road. Then a 3 week break, during which I need to do considerable patch-and-repair, repaint the main gallery. Tomorrow is the latest sunrise of the year. Things will resolve themselves. They have a way. As mere mortals we have no mandate to know why. A game, played above our heads. To a large extent, you are what you think. I look a little strange, but I feel ok, the fact that I dress oddly doesn't mean I'm crazy. What is crazy, anyway, compared to anything else? I balance a bare life at the edge of survival, I'm not even making a point, I melt snow to make coffee as a matter of course. Melted snow makes great coffee, why would I not? I use Red Maple ice-cubes to flavor a drink. You wouldn't want to be here.