2002-09-18 - 12:44 p.m.
Well�today is comic day again. Problem is, I haven�t finished my comics from last week yet�ugh!
Ever have one of those days where you have a million things that you want to talk about�but your never sure where to start�and the more you think about it, the more you realize that it is over sharing? I am having one of those days today. Damn�
I pride myself on having a quiet mind, so when things get noisy in there, I get a little worried. I have a focus problem, we all know that, but when something is on my mind it becomes a MILLION times worse. The kicker is there is nothing I can do about it. I sit quiet, I focus on the problem, I try to immerse myself in something else�but it just doesn�t help. Perhaps a good run at the forge would help�but either the weather hasn�t been cooperating, or I just haven�t had time. Sigh�I need to find my balance again. I need to quiet down.
I took time to smell the flowers the other day. It was wonderful. I wandered through a butterfly garden. I followed paths through a field of wild flowers, and thought of how it reminded me of the farm. I sure do miss that place, �specially in late summer.
I close my eyes and I find myself standing in fields that I have walked a thousand times in my youth. The grass has been kept low enough by the red and white cattle that roam the hills. When you look down you can see blue field stone peaking out of the parched soil, catching the sun on it soft muted surface. With every step you take grasshoppers take flight, trying to escape the new presence in their field. Little yellow and white butterflies flitter from thistle to flower to thistle flower, while other little fliers streak about in a seemingly random dance. A breeze drifts across the fields, bringing with it the smell of cattle, fertilizer, and summer. Ahead of me is Round Top, a hill at the back corner of the farm. The highest point on this two hundred and fifty acres. From Round Top you can see forever�or at least to the next ridge. But when you are ten that might as well be the other side of the world. Grandma�s little black dog is darting back and forth chasing elusive smells, happy to have company on her daily patrol of the fields. I glance to my left, which leads down to the big creek, and then right, which will eventually take you to the mountains, looking for any sign of the cattle. I know that they are just as scared of me as I am of them�but they are so big, and Grandma says that they can sometimes be mean. I don�t want to find out though. As I squint in the bright sun I think that I see them but they are far away, and I am sure that they won�t notice me. So I grab hold of the top rail of the yard fence, and in once swift movement, I over the top. I could have used the gate�but that�s just not as much fun�Sides adventurers never use yard gates. When I land, my feet kick up swirls of dust. Grandma said that they have been having a drought this summer�but then she says that every summer. I think that it is always dry here. I have never seen the hills any other color than brown. I glance once more towards the cattle to make sure they haven�t noticed the intrusion, and I set off. Today I am going to Round Top�by myself�
By myself�what a way to end this entry�how ironic.
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