A Break

Walked out to where I saw three deer this morning, to see what they'd been grazing. Ferns and other green stuff buried in leaves. The leaves are so deep, there's quite an array of plants, I use a salad fork (a great tool) to clear a square yard and study the plants. Several of them are quite sweet. Made a small batch of red onion jam served on fried polenta. I spoil myself, throwing care to the wind, and read another O'Brian. Chill morning but the house is warm enough, so I let the fire go out to clean ashes, then start another. Split a little kindling and stack it on the warming rack above the stove. Vow to vacuum some cobwebs tomorrow morning, when the slanted light makes them visible. Fog rising out of the hollow that wisps away into the air. Heat death right there in front of you. All the water there ever was. I ate the last of the polenta with Spanish sardines and salsa. I don't have to go out and long-line for cod, shingle a roof mid-winter, or work in an office. If I just eat rice and beans, and don't go off the ridge, I don't have to answer to anyone. The inevitable first winter storm is forecast for Thursday so I make a final list, I have three days to get to town, and I'm sure I can do that, it's only a couple hours out of my 168. A week is a week. This is when the driveway starts getting bad, ice, with frozen leaves, and snow on top. Rain now, a run to the woodshed, take in a reef. A well-run ship barely a word needs exchanged. I'm good at coiling ropes, tying knots, I cook a mean fish stew.