The lilting, clear voice of a friend's daughter
singing a John Denver classic.
I find the words an apt accompaniment to my presence here.
Except I don't live in West Virginia...ha.
I think I drove through part of it once, on the way from Pittsburgh to a hidden corner of Maryland.
Anyway....the point is that country roads do take me home, every day I'm here, living in the quiet, curvy land at the end of the earth.
I am finally at peace, and for a long time that has meant my desire to write was dormant, ignored, unnecessary.
Spring is midway through springing upon us, and it is causing creativity and desire to surge through my veins.
Desire for sleep, that is.
The pollen gums up my eyes and I fight of a cold or allergies that feel very allergenic, but my mind is vibrant like a whole box full of half-used tubes of acrylic paints and that is why I think it is not allergies, allergies which clog the arteries of my cerebral cortex, allergies which deaden the synapses which connect the pathways of my grey lumpy mass of intercranial coral.
Oh, "intercranial" isn't a word, blogger? Tsk-tsk.
The ponds and lakes are melting so fast it makes me doubt that it was February mere days ago.
Sigh. So much for that lovely moment. One of the kids' teachers just called to tell me he's been skipping homework.......