Shullsburg mind you- in a 14x14 Wenzel Kodiak nylon tent in which we have lived, loved and toiled for the past three months and find ourselves like sun kissed, wild and wrangled grapes at summers blazened edge- ripe for the pickin...at last! Nestled in our spray foamed insulated limestone, almost 200 year old dwelling, tonight I reflect upon our summer days and not so summery days here, restoring, mending and molding the old stone into our own hands and hearts; remaking the artists work, once again, for our own use, for our "little lives", to which we strive to be true to ourselves, our dreams, and that that is why we are here...and not there...in that fully finished and shiny new house wherever you are...
My head turns at an odd angle and attempts to capsulize the room but cannot. Not a thing is "square"and now even more apparent gazing at a painted scarlet timber framing the exposed stone wall of our bedroom, as it leads the passage to Duncan's room.
The frost has not found it's icy bite on summer's green bounty here; plenty of summer squash, brocolli and tomatoes continue to make their way into our kitchen which can now accomodate guests for dining?! Complete with working dishwasher- and hot water no less, this pioneer woman has just about died and gone to Palmolive heaven...but not just yet! Me thinks it is some form of historically preserved purgatory; for nightly, mouse and bat restle in the eves and the hot water heater howls like the hounds of hell!
Thick fog, gray and heavy like sheeps wool, settles into the fields now golden and plump with corn and bean. Hundreds of blackbirds gather in tree and brush, their harried flight plays out like a symphony and descends into the cornfields and rises again like ocean waves into the sky, scewered by electric lines against steel grey-blue sky.
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