Recapitulate

Down in Low Gap Hollow, hunting morels. It's rained so much that all of the wet-weather springs are squirting and leaking. Looking to get at the actual source, but the thing itself is blurred by the brimming. Should have worn hip-waders, but they'd have gotten ripped up by the new flush of green briar. These drainages, cut down through shale and sandstone, you could be looking at 50 or 100 million years. Within that context, events have occurred, we can see them in the rock. It's not a spring, artesian, that births Upper Twin Creek, it's just the seepage from a great many wet-weather leaks. What we call cap rock, those of us who dig holes, is an event, was an event. Tangled up in the time frame. It's difficult to be transparent because we keep so much hidden. After 15 years I've finally tracked the creek back to the source. Nothing if not persistent. Fox grape and blackberry canes canvas all the possible exits, you could get out a different way, an unexpected way, but it would take serious effort. Sometimes it's just easier to go back the way you came. Backtrack. It's a maze, but there's a sense to it. Struck me as funny, how easy it was to be misunderstood. I get back to the house. It's perfect, a warm dry place. I'm wet and cold, I got carried away, stayed out too long. More rain, but I should be able to get to town tomorrow, I need almost everything. Lucid, coherent, that's not the point, but it points in a direction. Still, we're left with that perplexing question of consciousness. How you fit in, the great scheme of things. I'm certainly not without fault, fried bologna sandwiches and moon-pies. Beat by circumstance. The delta blues again. Down in Low Gap Hollow, I have to say, when the wind comes howling through, I mostly just listen. There was rain-fog, today, in the trees. The air was completely saturated with water vapor. The budding and leafing trees, the bushes, the ground cover, were drinking it up; and the greening comes quickly. Nothing, then something. And the smell, the fecund, musky thickness of it; the way it plasters to the inside of your nose. We don't understand smell, the way it remembers. One thing that strikes me, not that it matters. Maybe I take out a comma and insert a period. Maybe I do nothing. That might be the correct move.