alchemy

Not much has happened in this last eight days or so since I last wrote here. My postings will be less frequent for awhile as I plug away at the manuscripts and curtail my social life even more -- and that's awfully boring to write about. But this came up. Trucks. Not the one pictured above, the quintessential Taos truck, but our 1993 Toyota pickup. Due to the accident with the new car a couple of weeks ago and because it was in the shop, I drove the old truck around town. First couple of days I complained bitterly. So high that it requires effort for me (not exactly tall) to climb into it. Kind of rough ride, no place to put the groceries except on the passenger seat and floor....blah blah blah. And then something happened -- I really started enjoying the experience. It was fun. Sitting tall in a vehicle at least as big as other vehicles in parking lots that usually dwarf mine, nice change from his Miata or the sedate Corolla. With trucks on my mind, and as I edited some poems, I found this draft written some time ago:

What happened that made me forget
how it feels to drive the old pickup
on a hot summer afternoon
with all the windows open
warm wind blowing in my hair.
Or how it feels to sit in the cool
night darkness with a candle.
What happened that made me forget
to notice the smell of newly cut hay,
neat squares in my neighbors' fields.
Or that sagebrush, after rain, smells like vanilla.
Always longing to travel to other places
I forgot that this place was new for me
was all I wanted
desperately
like love.

The Corolla is at last all fixed and shiny with no sign of damage, only today when I stopped for gas the tank cover wouldn't open and I had to drive nine miles back to the shop and have it checked. A minor adjustment and it was fine. Then I realized that I couldn't find my debit card and must have dropped it at the gas station when I was trying to figure out what to do about the cover. I zoomed back to the station (nine miles in the other direction as the gas level got lower and lower) and discovered that an honest person had found the card and turned it in. I hadn't realized how stressful the whole minor incident had been and when I got home I collapsed into a minor book where I've been ever since, until now.

Beauty everywhere in the park today as the heavy cloud cover of early morning began to lift off. The soft days are almost gone. I no longer walk in the early morning because it's quite cold and I'm a sissy. I wait till mid-morning or later when the sun, if it's going to shine, will keep me warm.

In between editing and writing bouts, I've picked up a couple of unfinished knitting projects that seem new and interesting again. I stash them near my computer so that when I get stuck on something or find myself editing words out of existence, or putting back words that I just took out,  I pick up the needles and wool and shift from the head to the hands. And it's all good. A peek at my general horoscope for next month informs me (like the lace ribbon scarf):  
Look to the future with optimism!
Things will fall into place.