Meander Where You May

[appaloosabeach]

64 degrees on the oregon coast today, you might be able to hear the plants growing in the greenhouse, if you don't speak, don't move, don't think. All of the above, I'm more than qualified.

[appaloosabeach]

64 degrees, no wind, perturbed surf, blue jays, juncos, robins, chicadees, white crowned sparrows, all the birds fighting and flapping and looking for mates, blue herons, bald eagles overhead, sharp shinned hawks screeching, romeo, romeo, where the hell are you? Five mares in heat, the stallion wants to tear his pen down, but he respects the hot wire. Daffodils everywhere, plum and cherry trees doing a full bloom pink, a few honey bees. Lady bugs searching out left over aphids, pansys, petunias, my huckleberry bushes are blooming. Daphne. I have a hundred year old wisteria in the front yard, counting down. The lawn mower won't start, guess I'll sit on the deck.

[appaloosabeach]

sitting on the deck, the deck was added to a hundred year old torn down house, we're ten feet from and ten feet above Allen Creek, a legendary stream down here on the south coast, murders, salmon runs, sea lions breaking down doors, trout and mud puppies, crawdads by the dozen, meth labs and automatic rifles just a quarter mile or so up the road, dead end of course, Forest Service land, no swat teams out here in the unemployed northwest coast, meth puts money back in the economy, buys gas from the Saudis, fertilizer from  China, lumber from Canada, TURBO TAX, only nineteen bucks from the USA, you want me to take a census questionaire up that road?

[appaloosabeach]

A census questionaire, you want me to ask questions about grampa and grama up there on Allen Creek. Grampa hasn't been seen since the 2001 district wrestling tournament,  his grandson lost. So the old boy took a taxi home, fifty four miles, one way. He still runs the dairy, sits in an electric wheelchair, an electric wheel chair, God bless America, tells the Mexicans what cows to milk and what hay to feed and what  time to hit the bushes, boys, the INS be heading this way. Grampa keeps a twelve guage next to the front door, loaded, he can recognise my whistle, so I'm safe. "Some day," he says, "all this will be yours."

[bosox18d]

Fun in the Florida Keys.  http://keysnews.com/node/21349

[barton]

Now there's a mental image that...well, let's just say that if Tarantino wrote this as a scene into his next movie, I would be so there.

[appaloosabeach]

Took two mares to the beach today, Nozomi, a twelve year old appaloosa mare, a spotted horse Joseph would have been proud of, and Beamer, half sister to Zoe, a pretty palomino girl, blonde mane and tail, blonde almost silver, ten years old, a sweet, kind, would you rub my forehead horse, a Rose Parade palomino, she raised hell in the barn when she thought she wasn't going, calm down, I say, there's room for one more. Doing the saddles, cold like dead steel, wind from the northwest, 35, maybe 40, scrunchy hail, happy I have gloves, happy I have a warm horse.

[kitinkaboodle]

   Riding on the beach ~~ any beach ~~ how I do envy you, appy!

[nnyhav]

Speak, Brainbody, on Laura and forthcoming verse, lectures & correspondence:
http://www.theamericanscholar.org/nabokov-lives-on

[appaloosabeach]

rode from the barn today, half a mile or so up the road we turn left, ignore the no tresspassing signs, walk lightly thru the front yard of an abandoned house, then down a narrow, nearly overgrown, sandy dirt packed road, country road, not the James Taylor country road, we move through forest and ferns and lime green moss. Broken tree tops block the path, the horses seem to enjoy the detours, up into the trees, dodging branches, moving sideways, no birds, no people, hooves on sand make a squeaky noise, shadows slide by, back on the road, road turns to sand, bright blue sky, bright blue sky.

[carol polk]

It sounds to me like you're ready to start a magazine and cooking show on PBS  in competition with the dude,
Christopher something, who writesand videos so soulfully in Vermont.  He could use some competition, if you ask me.

[appaloosabeach]

A cold, cold ton of rain today. Dark, mostly blue, some black, lumbering clouds bump into the sides of the coastal hills, too heavy to pass over, they obscure everything green. Stalled, they bend sunlight into gloomy watercolor apparitions, greenish gray, blue gray, almost white gray. The heavy rain makes a noise when it hits the ground, hard to describe. All thirteen horses in the barn, warm and dry. They stand for hours, listening, waiting.

[appaloosabeach]

Sping break in Oregon, welcome to nasty weather, cold and wet and hail and thunderboomers. Slippery rain running down their faces, the touristas don't want, no, can't spend money when they feel neglected, neglected by the weather Gods. The tourists can't spend rain, thinking they should have gone south to Texas. You  walk down our beaches, surf runing about eight foot high, breaking right to left, left to right, the swells are a good twenty-five feet high.  God bless the ocean, God bless the swells, like Cochise said a few years back, "the only good tourist is a dead tourist." The county won't pay for scalps, not like the good old days, however, there is a room tax.

[appaloosabeach]

on the news today, both tv and radio, henry kissinger is in the hospital, let's pray he comes out alive. Six of my high school classmates were blown apart, died bleeding ugly wounds, died wondering where was mom?  Vietnam.  Henry was lounging in a five star Paris hotel when James took a shot to the chest, james lives on the street, the cops roust him every day, they don't want to listen to his war stories, they be dealing with queers stealing bikes.

[appaloosabeach]

my brother-in-law was an Agent Orange guy, first in, last out. His feet have rotted off the bone. The vets don't care, waited too late to file a claim. He sits in his wheelchair, by the mailbox, waiting. Bill Clinton was the President, getting bj's under the table.