Lucinda climbed the bumpy logging road like a champ. Out of bug shadows we ascended until we broke through the sun bejeweled crust, through an atmospheric ocean’s golden surface and could go higher no further. Atop our hill, I could see the surrounding Canadian countryside for miles. And how we were enveloped by the rich light, kissed and hugged and welcomed a thousand times.
I made camp here- pitched a tarp, built a fire pit and collected wood. Over the flame, on a tripod built of stone, I warmed a can of chili and water for coffee. I rolled a cigarette, threw some loose tobacco into the fire as tribute to Prometheus and the trees, and made some sketches, enamored. Under the stars and above the lights of a distant a town and around the rumble of trains, I fell asleep.
Ah, yes, happy belated Bloomsday!
[…] O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the
glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all
the queer little streets and pink and blue and yellow houses and the
rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar
as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose
in my hair like the Andalusian girls […]
— Ulysses, Joyce
2 thoughts on “Mile 1411”
Jeez – enough. Where are you? Where did you get access to a computer? I’m updating my blog too. There’s quite a style difference. Shame you don’t go digital and bedazzle us with pictures as well as words. Where are you?
first of all. hahahahaha i love ruth’s response!!! hahaha. i can just hear her saying it. hahaha
what i was going to write was far more sappy: something along the lines of . i am honored to know you age.