Tuesday, June 28, 2011
May 29, 2011
I went for a walk at Bridgeport, alone today. I'm sitting in the late afternoon, almost summer, sun. The grass is going from green to gold and the dirt is hot and cracking. Storms in late May are under-rated. Everyone gripes about the cold and the clouds, what with the flavors of summer already in their mouths. Yet I enjoy the huge thunderheads and intermittent sunshine. Last little exaltation of spring and life. A dipper flew nearly 6 inches above my head. I was nearly sleeping on a rock in the river, when I heard it and looked up. It mustn't have noticed me on the boulder. To be quiet and still, that is the way. I'm reading the Dharma Bums again. I want to be more of a rucksack wanderer. In all this time, that longing has not gone away. I see the beauty in him fleeing to the desert and me retreating to the mountains. Nothing is more beautiful to me than the sunshine. It is the source of all life.