Muscatine Musk Melon, a local tradition
Well past the center of August, "high summer" has gone by a bit, the days are noticeably shorter, nights are coming on sooner. The tomatoes, Brandywine, Green Zebra, Russian Krim, Cherokee Purple, Better Boy, Yellow Boy, have been fruitful and outstanding...and Zinnias have been popping open everywhere, spectacular! Some dread at winter coming, another winter coming, that season, joyful at the start, first snow, chill, turns horrible at the middle, endless, dark.
I'm off work today and tomorrow, still foot weary, my hours too long, I work too hard. It takes me a day to recover enough to make use of the second day off, so today, I mowed the lawn well, watered the garden, and sat a lot playing with Flickr. Alone most of today--Jim's off playing cards with friends--I'm amazed often at my capacity to be alone or nearly alone. An odd flow of life these days, from prior days of beach and sun and something of family and friends; now, it's different, just work mostly, or rare excusrsions with friends from work, last week to Clinton, Iowa for Wide River Winery then over to Fulton, Illinois for pizza and beer, then, what seemed a long haul, to Lyndon, Illinois, population 600, for the rest of the night in a karioke bar, red-necks partying-up, boycotting Budweiser because it's gone "Communist". So very out of place yet comfortable. The intensity of being "alone" is often so much more severe when I'm in a crowd...that ancient sense that I'm different, don't belong, out of place...I offer it up and move on, smile a lot, and drink an "American" beer--Coors.
My age--or aging--worries me. None of this easy. Seven or eight years in Milan, Illinois now with nary a plan to move "back" anywhere; mostly I don't know how to do it or suspect a worse environment. I think that one day a "spark" will hit me and I'll be off to California, announcing first to my kids, "deal with it!" Or how about Idaho or New Mexico, rural, snowbound, an artist--eccentric for sure--in a shack somewhere living on Social Security! Pretty, solo dinners, pasta alla putanesca or alle vongole in the midst of wilderness, some "pesto" of design, emailed to me from god-knows-where, or grown for myself.
Lauren phoned today for proof of my Illinois residency, for copies of my W-2 forms and Income Tax for 2004; Libby says she has a lein on the house for my "back taxes" unpaid, because I had no income from California for 2004. Somewhat resolved--I found my 2004 tax forms and will xerox that off to someone soon, but it sits me thinking of the long tenure here--seven or eight years--lousy wages and backbreaking work. I'm a pay check or two from homelessness and it isn't getting any better. Wow, and I'm down in the dumps.
Lovely photos, many of them, posted to Flickr...a spot of lightness. I need, maybe tomorrow--to put some order in my basement bedroom, throw things away, lots and lots. Make it homier.
