That's the new little welcome sign on the door at Papa Jay's Country Store which has not opened yet, but I expect it will, any day now. I am thinking of the shelves of precisely stacked goods, just awaiting purchase. I'm not sure why I'm so excited about this, but I am. Perhaps simply because it will be a good thing for our community if the prices aren't jacked too high. We do have a convenience store up next to the truck stop and then there's the truck stop itself which is an interesting place but they are both owned by one guy whom no one likes around here and the women who seem to be the only cashiers at the stores look as if they are possibly chained to the back of the counters and both stores are dreary and sad and neglected and I, for one, would like a choice when I run out of milk. Papa Jay seems so very happy about the prospect of his store. So proud of it.
Well, time will tell.
It's been a very, very good day for me. I took a walk and if my walks do nothing else, they remind me that I still CAN, and make me feel as if I have accomplished something. I stopped at the Post Office and found two things sent from blog-related people in real, true life and that just always makes my day. When I got home, the phone rang and it was a woman from the dermatologist's office who told me that the biopsy of the places on my shoulder were completely benign. Just old-skin barnacles. No worries. Good-bye.
And I think I know why these places have not really settled into their usual crusty forms and that's because my overall straps AND my purse strap rub right on that area.
Overall-related skin disorder!
Jesus. Who knew?
So that was a sweet relief.
And then there was the fact that the day looked like this.
And so I did this.
Oh, how I love to hang sheets on the line! How I appreciate a day sunny enough, dry enough to do so.
I spent the rest of the day mostly outside, just picking up fallen branches and sticks, tidying this and that, cleaning out the hen house and replacing the poopy hay with fresh. I watered plants and did more laundry and used my new broom and all the while I have been listening to Robert Heinlein's "The Door Into Summer," which I have not read in forever. I am enjoying it immensely. Heinlein got so much right about the future and yes, quite a bit wrong. But he was a genius of sorts and he loved cats and I am very glad that I enjoy Science Fiction and was introduced to it at an early age. When I was growing up, it was mostly the boys who read that genre but I fell in love with it and reading "Stranger In A Strange Land" absolutely blew my mind and changed my life.
Reading his books now, I have to remind myself of how sexist the times were when he wrote and take that into account. I imagine that writing for the Sci Fi audience required a certain amount of titillation (what a wonderful word!) and so I forgive him his cultural sins.
Mr. Moon has gone to auction and I am tired but feeling better in my soul than I've felt in a very long time. As in...normal. For me, at least. It will feel good to take a shower and better yet to stretch out on the bed with its clean sheets, the window open wide to let in the good, sweet air. I've had the hallway doors open at both ends all day, the kitchen door and the door to the porch outside my bedroom open too and it feels good to walk through the house and feel as if I am both inside and out at the same time, the borders between them merely screens. Sometimes I wonder if I would be able to live in an apartment far above the street in a big city and I truly do not think I could. I have to be able to walk out a door and feel dirt beneath my feet, to sit on a porch and watch birds and chickens, to have a cat who can come and go as she pleases. City life is fine for some and maybe in another lifetime I'll be able to enjoy that but in this lifetime, I'll gladly trade what is sometimes admittedly way too much nature for the joys and majesties and blooming of the trees, and clothes hanging on the line and the sight of the first-blooming purple violets in the yard by the burn pile, by the feel of warm, fresh eggs in my hand, the snap of greens as I employ my thumbnail to pluck just enough to make my supper's salad.
The voices of the frog chorus are dancing up and down in a very definite rhythm. Du-du-DUHT, du-du-DUHT, du-du-DUHT! And then the soloists weave in and out and then they all pause (to take a breath?) and begin again in a song which is as intricate and interwoven as anything Dave Brubeck ever participated in.
The rhythms of the universe. I think we all need to be connected to them and not in some new-age way but in the old-age way of blooms and the arrival of birds and the hiss of the tide and the turn and turn again of the planet and the life and the death of it all. If I have no other purpose on earth than to observe and record that, then so be it.