The cedar fence could pass for a sand dune as I look out across the shelter belt. I took a closer look at the Pasco trucking emblem on the midnight blue door of the tractor that pulled the long white trailer into the shelter belt sometime after Tim left yesterday. Why it brought to mind Frank Herbert’s stories of the sandworm I can’t figure but it did. Dune. Children Of Dune. Those tales of science fiction filled my imagination of sacred spices needed by the worms and when sampled by a human eventually turned him into one as well. I am not sure I will re-read the fantasy but I was struck by the recall when I looked out from my sun room this morning. Yesterday’s hard wind might have brought sand in the air but no big sand world. I think I will go to the library and look at the series just for fun.
Archive for September, 2011
Once again I am alone. Tim left about daybreak this morning. We had coffee and he took an extra cup for traveling. We had a very nice visit. He bought a ratchet and tightened up the bolts in my Adirondack cedar rocker. I situated it between my back porch and the air conditioner to prevent the black squirrel spit of walnut juice falling on it. That stuff really stains permanently, very black. Maybe after all the nuts are harvested I can move the chair but it is out of the north breeze so I think it will be OK from now on. I could put it on the sun porch but it takes up almost the entire area. I want to pad the back because the center board seems to enjoy rolling up my vertebrae as if hitting piano keys. I went to Freethought worship at eleven am with Robert, Jim and Dan. A letter to the editor reminding all about the destruction of the twin towers on nine eleven years past brought out questions about conspiracy. So much for an intellectual discussion. I planned to water plants after lunch but storm clouds came up and brought rain, enough for now. More rain projected in the next couple of days so I will relax a bit. I bought material for curtains and the predominant yellow pattern brightens the living room. My nice refrigerator was filled with birthday ice cream and other stuff the kids thought I could use. And I probably will. The freezer keeps it nicely frozen. Right now my thoughts are so random that my eyes glaze over. A few moments of watching the wind tossing the branches so frantically they just might blow off is too stressful. The thought of no leaves is too much to contemplate.
Remember my brother Emil? He died in 2003 and I think in the month of August. His wife’s name is Jean. She and I have not been in constant contact so she was far from my thoughts. Well this morning I got a phone call from Jean’s cousin informing me of Jean’s death last Tuesday after several heart attacks. This cousin, Alice Schupt, will send me photos of Roger when he was little. I think I have black and white prints of him and Alice promised to have someone in her acquaintance send me some jpgs. She does not have the technology to do that herself. I appreciate that she phoned me and from that Iwill probably get more information and photos. She is the last contact I have from Minnesota. Once a man that had been in my second grade in the consolidated school emailed me but other than getting news of Solvieg’s death in California from a horse kick, I’ve lost contact there. One of the younger Dalen boys went totally berserk years ago and shot his parents and several siblings. Would our society be better off without guns? As if we will get an opportunity to find out.
My walkabout was interrupted this morning when I decided that too many of the English walnut branches were hanging over into my neighbor’s back yard. Now I’ve had previous neighbors who were delighted to share the cool shade and the lovely green branches overhanging the fence. However these young men do not water their yard, front or back. Over their patio door is a 4 by 8 foot sheet of particle board so they do not look out there at all. It took the 8-ft ladder, big nippers, and a garden rake to get the job done. Way too much work first thing in the morning, but it took the sleep out of my eyes. Some of the branches were hard to get at so I “raked” them in to hold them close enough to cut off. Since I do the watering I wanted the branches where I could enjoy them – inside my fence. Those that ventured out were cutback. The soil is very dry so I will be watering for a week or two just to keep the trees alive. The English walnut by my sun room is almost as tall as the Douglas Fir which is decades older. I am nurturing a two year old cottonwood tree that I hope someday will rival the one Wade’s have out by the shelter belt. They had a tree expert in last spring to cut back a large branch that reached over their house and they worried hat it would fall on their roof. The water isn’t the biggest part of my utility bill but I consider the results worth every penny of it.
The small avocado I had at 3pm probably will hold me over until supper time. The raisin nut toast was a skimpy breakfast but enough for the energy to do my walkabout in the back yard. I went to work on my moth novel early considering Nancy’s suggestion to write the end first. Quite an unusual idea and brought out a different spin on the story. While writing what the ending might be, other characters appeared necessary to flesh out the plot. The entire concept was more exciting and I hurried to figure it out. However, I ran out of steam after three pages and settled in my lawn chair to admire my trees and watch the scurrying wildlife. Somewhere there will be a big inspiration. Sometime. I hope. Somehow I do not see my scientists chasing each other up and around the trees. They are not the types to chase each other around the desks in the laboratory. But still…. maybe a chase of some sort toward the solution to a mystery. No reminder is too small to ignore and I will have to invent a twist or two to keep me guessing what will come next.
I was jerked awake this morning when my neighbor’s heat pump came on and I realized why I was looking forward to camping. There would be no engines humming through the earth under my pillow in Tim’s tent. I remember the silence of campgrounds in Yellowstone and Glacier as breathtaking. His tent has a floor that keeps us dry and a ceiling that withholds the rain. Once before we set up our tent far from the roads in what we thought would be the most quiet spot of all. It was quiet until just after dark when the Amtrak trains came roaring by. Our weekend plan to camp at Palouse Falls would not include trains. However I have witnessed those falls and I recall the falling water was far from silent. The campsites are located on a trail away from the falls but will the flowing water be heard through the ground under my pillow? The answer is a blog away.