Friday, November 7, 2014

Bourgeois Rising

I'm concerned with the confusion of road and row. If you've never held a hoe you might not understand. One doesn't hoe a road. One hoes a row, to clean the weeds around a plant you favor. Hoeing a road might mean planting ornamentals along the verge, but that's a stretch; though there are vast reaches of the Interstate in Iowa that are beautiful. As soon as it warmed up a bit, I pulled on bib-overalls and went outside. Filled the wood box, then took a walk. Brisk and lovely. Picked up a batch of acorns from a white oak tree, they're somewhat less bitter, to make some meal. Totally captivated by the Tuchman book, the 14th century was truly awful. The Black Death, of course, and the endless fighting between France and England, the incredible suffering of the peasant class, a chaotic church (three popes at once) literally selling salvation. A sorry state of affairs. Interesting to note that the first thing Gutenberg printed at Mainz, 1454, were indulgences. I'm very careful, using tools, but I was splitting an oak round today (I set a wedge with the back of the maul-head) when a fox appeared down the driveway. I hit the inside of my left hand with the maul. Nothing broken, but it hurt like hell and I gave up splitting for the day. Getting dark anyway, now that we're back on Standard Time, so I went inside and made a pot-roast and root vegetables on toast that was excellent. I don't have the stamina anymore to work hard physically for 8 or 10 hours at a time, but I do like to push myself, now and again, though I end up tired and sore. I was so happy to get back inside today, strip off the outer layer, wash my face and hands, get into slippers and bath-robe, stoke the fire, get a drink and roll a smoke, that I was almost ecstatic. I like not being accountable. I'm pretty sure it's Friday, finally change the calendar and listen to the radio to get a fix on time and place. I was close. Which is all that matters. Navaho sense is not the same, and ever since I lived on their reservation I view clocks with suspicion.

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