Friday, September 19, 2014

Cooler Weather

Got up at four, cool inside, needed to shut some windows and get my lightest blanket which is actually a single, heavy flannel sheet. I love the way it feels. Went outside to pee and shivered for the first time this season. Getting on. Realized I was completely awake. Turned on the radio and got a wee dram, rolled a smoke and listened to some hard-driving African rock. Black Dell was on, the phone was still out, so I wrote for a couple of hours, which, in this case, was four sentences, three commas, four periods. Shaved, took a sponge bath, then managed to get lost, taking forest service roads into town. Lost is relative, right? I knew I was heading east, eventually came out on Cary's Run Road in a place I'd never been before. I knew the river was to my right, so I went that way. Dead reckoning is fine, if you're not pressed for time. B and I once drove home to the ridge, from Bowling Green, Ohio, only on roads that had three numbers, without a map. A lovely drive. I was early for lunch, nonetheless, had a smoke outside the back door of the pub, watching the breeding pair of Peregrine Falcons wheeling overhead. What beautiful birds. They have a nest on the roof of the Masonic Temple and have the pigeon population well under control. I was sitting there, staring up at the birds, and a guy came out of the pub for a cigaret, I loaned him my lighter. He asked what I was looking at and I pointed out the falcons. He had a degree in birds, as it happens, and we talked about climate change. Everyone is saying that this next winter is going to be severe. A severe winter is days below zero, one to ten of these is acceptable, more than that, you just walk around with a bison pelt over your shoulder, waiting for the worst. I have a vested interest, perishable goods, myself., everyone else too, but can't speak for them. I start a fire and huddle close to the flame. Tree tip pit at the edge of tomorrow. First fire of the year, and I mostly just burn paper and cardboard I'd stuffed in the stove all summer; it draws nicely. Old bills and bank statements. I throw on a few sticks of sassafras, to hear them crackle and pop, and it makes the place smell good. I sat with Ronnie, at the farmer's market, and all the pretty women stop at his table. It was fun, but I couldn't see the point. Retired to the pub, where I was the first customer, and Lindsay poured me a pint. Chatted with the staff, until things got busy, then TR came in, flopping his hat on the counter, which is his way of saying hello. I nod toward the empty stool.

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