eighty-eight...
today i was party to a routine small animal surgery. i do not have a weak stomach. and yet. i have never been so near to turning my gut wrongside out on account of such. even to think about it now makes me feel ill in the belly. aye!
just finished taking the bonnet from the eighty-eight. blowing in her ear with the canned air. so dusty in there! btw canned air is a special thing. a thing of beauty.
again somehow the question is posed: why the stay? why the attachment? one would wonder about the appeal of so rural a place. what do you get out of it? the question of the year. someone who'd ask me wouldn't understand the answer. i've been many places. i'll be there again. in another year or so this one will be covered in extraneous vineyard. wal-mart. machine row houses. any day those many places will be there. this one will not. i'm not about to waste it.
last evening i went to the hind of dovie's property (which is no longer dovie's. she's now late.) and gathered pears. two trees. the construction crew building the new house doesn't seem interested in orchardry. the ground is wet with them. smells like hard cider. slippery. but the ones still hanging are good. firm as rock but sweet inside. green and squat not like the newly discovered brown across the way.
for some reason my hair looked exceedingly red with the light shining through it. like a shampoo commercial. as soon as i thought it i thought better of it. supressed the urge to flip it about.
extraneous vineyard (i'm quoting myself!). i have nothing against vineyard generally. and wine is nice. very nice. i just find these fashions funny. no. disturbing. subject land to a whim. a fad. so many yards filling every square foot with grape. and perfectly wonderful ag land put under those clusters too. grapes grow anywhere (nearly). ag land is precious. but it doesn't have a pretty face. and it's harder to brag of.
i'm not going to police my spelling. be merciful.
to bed.
just finished taking the bonnet from the eighty-eight. blowing in her ear with the canned air. so dusty in there! btw canned air is a special thing. a thing of beauty.
again somehow the question is posed: why the stay? why the attachment? one would wonder about the appeal of so rural a place. what do you get out of it? the question of the year. someone who'd ask me wouldn't understand the answer. i've been many places. i'll be there again. in another year or so this one will be covered in extraneous vineyard. wal-mart. machine row houses. any day those many places will be there. this one will not. i'm not about to waste it.
last evening i went to the hind of dovie's property (which is no longer dovie's. she's now late.) and gathered pears. two trees. the construction crew building the new house doesn't seem interested in orchardry. the ground is wet with them. smells like hard cider. slippery. but the ones still hanging are good. firm as rock but sweet inside. green and squat not like the newly discovered brown across the way.
for some reason my hair looked exceedingly red with the light shining through it. like a shampoo commercial. as soon as i thought it i thought better of it. supressed the urge to flip it about.
extraneous vineyard (i'm quoting myself!). i have nothing against vineyard generally. and wine is nice. very nice. i just find these fashions funny. no. disturbing. subject land to a whim. a fad. so many yards filling every square foot with grape. and perfectly wonderful ag land put under those clusters too. grapes grow anywhere (nearly). ag land is precious. but it doesn't have a pretty face. and it's harder to brag of.
i'm not going to police my spelling. be merciful.
to bed.
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