September 19, 2003

Goulash and Galoshes

By Fridays, my biorhythms are cycled around to the lowish point, and it shows up in the blog. I look at my little notebook of things I could say and it looks like the picked-over carcass of last week's water buffalo. I ought to be content just to keep my mouth shut on Fridays and say nothing at all. But no.

Of course, we survived the night without incident. We had way worse storms this past spring than what Isabel brought us, at least this far west, while a dozen or so people are dead, east, because of the hurricane. I took the dog out at 4:00 when his alarm went off (coincidentally with our electric alarm). I stepped out into humid, warm darkness full of the vapors of African rains spun over and over near the edge of the atmosphere and finally dropped on Goose Creek. There was just enough light that I could the house is basted in wet maple leaves like yellow sequins on a fall dress, our leaves blown in place overnight by alien winds coming from all directions, swirling cyclonic torrents of air. We got a few inches of rain but the creek's roar is tame enough this morning. I can't see how high it is yet, but I'm certain I'll be able to get over it later today in the truck to start working on some of the summer's deadfall. Lord knows I didn't need Isabel to make any more work for me, firewood-wise. Leave it on the stump 'til we need it, please mam.

We had expected this weekend to entertain my good friend Dennis, and his wife and "their" six year old (it's a his and hers family, blended as they say). But sparing me the details, he called yesterday to say only that they just couldn't make it. I could hear the exhaustion in his voice, and I understand. Lives are just so busy and full of obligation and responsibility that by the time it comes to booking your discretionary time, all you can do with it is try to recover before the next wave surges in. Well. Better to travel hopefully, as I say. I had looked forward to some 'face time' with a true friend, in those years we worked together, that knows where I've been, who could come here and see where I am and offer perspective on this so-called life as we know it. And it's just one more sign that old friendships get harder and harder to maintain -- not that more evidence was needed. This friendship, too, is being diluted as the years apart make the waters between us deeper, wider, isolating us from those shared times that get harder and harder to recall. I had thought the weblog would be a way of keeping my life a bit more accessible to old friends like him-- he in particular had requested once that if I ever wrote anything else like (whatever it was I'd written), be sure and tell him. I've written every day for the past 15 months now. I've told him (and others) several times about Fragments, and he's not once visited. I'm disappointed, but my expectations of folks these days are set low enough that I'm hardly surprised.

Last biweekly topic at the Ecotone was "islands and place". I didn't participate because I thought I didn't know anything about islands. But I guess I could have. Sometimes this place seems like a remote and lonely island. Especially on a wet gray morning after a hurricane.

Posted by fred1st at September 19, 2003 07:46 AM | TrackBack

You can only build bridges, you can't make people cross them.

Keep the faith.

Posted by: Cody at September 19, 2003 10:49 AM

Glad you and yours escaped unscathed from Isabel. Our house took a direct hit from an 80 ft red oak. That and the power outage kept us off the internet for a whole day. Talk about sensory deprivation! Thanks for the yellow sequins on a fall dress.

Your imagery gets better and better. Keep on writing! And...don't lower your expectations. Just make new friends if the old ones don't want to keep pace.


Posted by: David at September 19, 2003 05:30 PM

Ditto, from a new friend!

Posted by: trish at September 20, 2003 09:59 AM

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