The Passage of Time and all That
Where have I been.
One could say I have been plagued by ideas. And limited by time, talent, ambition, discipline, etc.
Meanwhile, by the by, nevertheless, the passage of time and all that.
Since moving in, spring of last year, we’ve removed about ten tons of gravel and large swathes of weed-resistant fabric from the land beneath our feet. Thus began my studies in physical exertion. And its attendant physical agony. I am old, Fodder William, and I am xeriscaping upside down, on a steep hill.
Got me a burn permit, yup, and set fire to the north side of the ravine. My daughter often stops over for those burn days, and we get to share the weird exhilaration. Only once did we lose control of our controlled burn. The couple of horses next door stand absolutely still, heads high, tails up, during a burn. I have arrived in the sticks, and the sticks are sublime. I have arrived in the sticks and the sticks have stuck me ? I am steeped in the sticks and stuck on the sky.
A dozen half-finished essays (?) and a bunch of unfinished paintings lie scattered about the house, calling for me and pushing me away in equal measure. I clearly prefer risking life and limb on the hill.
The jays are back, and with them, a couple of mockingbirds. The pines we planted last year have established themselves, and the long grasses and sedum have begun to crawl down the slope -- a final burst of growth before the the cold begins.
I have stepped down from two boards, cut back on the galleries, and lightened my teaching load. And still I will never know where any given day goes. Time is a real trick of the tail.
Meanwhile, by the by, nevertheless, the passage of rhyme and poems get written and all that. Some of them fly off into the world, and find places to roost.
