Walk About

Bear came over, with his tool-kit. I was the ground man, cutting all the various pieces, and he did the roof work; half a day and the house is sealed solid again, better than ever, really. We enjoy the job, and do it well. I haven't worked with him for years, but we fall right back into comfortable patterns. We share a great ability to visualize what needs to be done. If you can see it, in your mind's eye, you can figure a way to do it, and this is a job well done: no more leaks, my books are safe. We finish, and clean up the site, I get a drink. He's been drinking away all day at a pre-mixed half-gallon of cranberry juice, orange juice and vodka. I marvel that he keeps his balance. We talk about the theory of stairs. I swear he is a mountain goat. Such a relief to me, to have effected this repair, on the brink of my trip. He hems and haws and finally asks for $100, for a Sunday, on short notice, and I had figured exactly that; he really felt he was gouging me, but I allayed those fears right away. We talk morels and he mentions a spot north of the graveyard that I'd not known about. After he leaves I go over and get a couple of beauties, the largest mushrooms I've harvested this year. 'Yellow' morels, but it's just a color phase, they're all gray. Fry a couple of pieces of bread in butter, saute the mushrooms, a piece of meat is optional, a salad. In a reflective moment I think this is the life, this is where I want to be: morels and thee, in the wilderness. The crows remind me that I'm not special. Checks and balances. Nothing furthers, everything gains. Harvey was right, we should at least consider killing ourself.