January, and I can’t complain too much about the weather, though those may be famous last words.

The worst may yet be ahead of us, but so far, this has been a pretty tolerable winter. I have been making a conscious effort to tolerate cold weather more easily, in preparation for that fabled era in my lifetime called “retirement” or, by another term, “get the heck outta Dodge.”

But it’s been a tolerable winter, so far. Not too wet but wet enough. I am hoping my creeks will be replenished come spring, for I am sorely missing them.

My neighbors, bless their little hearts, keep trying to shame me by cutting their lawns. I steadfastly refuse to even turn the key of the mower until at the earliest latter-March. They do not realize one key element of my composure: I have no shame, at least when it comes to grass cutting.

I have spent most of my off time revising and preparing to publish my considerable portfolio of writing on e-books of all kinds, and some additionally in paperback. I’ve sat with my laptop for countless hours so far, and am making steady progress. It’s grueling work. Some of this stuff is more than 20 years old, and I’m reading it again like it’s all new to me, since I generally can’t remember what happened yesterday, much less this morning. Some of it I go, “Wow!” over, other parts I go, “Jeesh, what was I thinking?” Hindsight is always 20/20, isn’t it?

When setting down my head to sleep at night, plots and twists and turns run through my head until I can finally calm them down, focus instead on the face of a time-smoothed range of blue-hazed peaks, running streams and ancient forests. Then I sleep, dream of Blue Ridge and Ozark valleys, get up the next day, and start the rat race all over again.

Life is old there

Older than the trees

Younger than the mountains

Growing like a breeze (John Denver)

Guess I am just sick to death of being a flatlander, which doesn’t make a lot of sense, because I’m terrified of heights. You won’t catch me mountain climbing, to be sure, and I firmly believe the best view of the mountains is from a creek bottom, way down in a valley. With a fly rod, of course. Everything looks better with a fly rod.

It doesn’t even bother me anymore that the country is going to heck in a handbag. Well, now and then it does, when I sit and think about it. After seeing the successful pseudo-assassination of Herman Cain, and the remarkably failed pseudo-assassination of Ron Paul – which only seems to have made him more popular! – I’m just waiting for the election to cast my vote for anybody but the incumbents in any race. Out with the old, in with the new, and hopefully, better. Doubtful, but hopeful.

January. Another year gone by already. I just don’t know where they’re going so fast! I keep looking for them in the corners of my closets, in the drawers of my sideboard, in the lint in the dryer screen. But they seem to just poof away into nothing, taking another 365 days with them.

If we’re lucky, spring will come early…but not too early. Much as I dislike winter, spring came two soon last year, and it was thus hot too soon. An April spring is just about right. Right around Easter would be good. But not so late as May, then I get to feeling cheated.

In case you didn’t hear, “Native Waters: A Chitimacha Recollection” the documentary by Louisiana Public Broadcasting is going to national market. It will run in whatever public television markets choose to pick it up across the United States. I’m very excited about this, and though we didn’t win a Suncoast Emmy award for the show, dangit, this is a grand treat.

Anyway, not much to say, as has been my lot these last months. I don’t know where my gift of gab went. I guess I should not have tried to do two of these a week for the last 13 years. Running on empty, that’s what I am. I’m like Frodo at the end of the quest…I’ve survived and returned but the Shire just isn’t home anymore, and I long for the Gray Havens. I’ve carried the Ring for more than 31 years now, and if I keep at it much longer, I’ll end up looking like Gollum. Which some might say would be an improvement.

1 comment to January

  • blufloyd

    Snow, we had snow. I woveled off the drive. You have to look up ‘wovel’ I am making this brief.
    We still have no real ice. I miss ice more than streams. I amuse myself watching body fall apart.

    I need more coffee, less heartburn and this pain in my leg can vanish….

    I need to write a couple books.

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