A cold, heavy wet snow has swept in, and this looks like a serious one. The donkeys are in the barn, took Rose for a walk (got some video) and are ready for another foot or so. Spring is close, I can almost sniff it.
I’m entering a new period of life, I think. I go to sleep early, and I get up early – 4 a.m. this morning. I make coffee, sit with the dogs, let them out and light up the wood stove. Before I woke up Herman, my scary voice in the night, came by with various suggestions about my life and future, and I told him I appreciated him and all of his tiresome work, but perhaps it was time to think about moving on somewhere else.
“Where would I go?” he asked plaintively.
How about Storm Center?, I suggested. They are making a lot of money there are are quite busy and they make a lot of people anxious. You would be happy. Or you could work for a pharmaceutical company making up one of those ads that recommends you talk to your doctor about one thing or another and take one pill or another (although you might grow the head of a Golden Retriever). Hmm, Storm Center, Herman said. That has promise. I could make millions of people nervous.
I felt a surge of guilt about that, but nobody has to listen to Storm Center. I got my first “severe” weather alert at 6 p.m. last night, and have gotten a dozen or more since. 8 to 12. Herman can work with that. I’m going to do some writing, let the donkeys out of the barn for a bit, and then sit and meditate before the former girlfriend gets up. She sleeps like the Ages, lucky thing.
Herman, I said, here’s the pitch. I bless the storm, and give thanks for it, and for my love, my warmhouse, the firewood on the porch, my wonderful dogs, and the work I love. I think of those many who don’t have these things, and I wish them comfort. I can’t wait to take my first video of Bedlam Farm in a storm. Let me know if you need help with your resume.
