Nicely Restated

The never ending problem of translation. Iteration and reiteration. Had everything set and couldn't find B. He called and had been knocked down with an unknown virus and in the hospital; back home now, but weak as a kitten. The man is never sick, so it's hard to imagine how bad it must have been; but he's back home, self-medicating, reading, resting up. He'd finished classes, had his grades in, still, felt awkward that he had been sick. I went to town, to tell the appliance guy I'd be a couple of days, and made my rounds; stopped at the library, soup at the pub, a few things at Kroger. Went below the floodwall, to look across at Kentucky. A string of barges, plowing upstream. The newer generation of tugs are amazing, their push is measured by the 100K horsepower. Kentucky is verdant, so green it shimmers; I can hardly remember ever being cold or wondering if I'd make back it back to the ridge. Now it's a walk in the park. The transition is incredible, and all of those stone rings make such perfect sense when you realize light and heat are in your favor, that the axis has tipped. A natural thing, to mark that point, and to note what might be around: salmon swimming upstream or elk using the ford, bison grazing in the bluestem. It's all about time-factoring. A particular animal and a specific plant together indicates a time of year. Don't get me started on cycles. An innocent walk can propel one almost into the mystic. You look at one thing, then another, the curious patterns that nature evolves. The blackberry are blooming and it's a riot, they roil in the clear-cut. Ever the realist, I hack some paths, I'll collect some berries and make jam. Blackberry juice and local honey is an anodyne against whatever. Listen, there are holes in the system, you either plug them with a bit of crap or you move to high ground. Several of my friends have joined the church, I have no idea what they're thinking. That Jesus is going to save them? That's probably not going to happen. The odds.