March 12th, 2011

wayside cross

Healing the soul and body

I went over to Wilderstead yesterday afternoon. I was tired and overworked, and I debated about staying and trying to slam some more stuff through, but in the end needed to get away more. I'm glad I did. It was a beautiful late afternoon in the holler. I crossed the Pishon and poked about. Found a deer skeleton that had been worked over by coyotes. Saw a lot of downed timber. I could stay busy for a week just running my chain saw. And I had a lovely night in the cabin.

Had a good night's sleep (a rarity for me these days). I felt so good this morning, I found the energy to do some chores. I filled in some of the trenches I dug last fall. Then I cleaned everything up and headed back. It was a beautiful, bright, spring-like day. I even had to turn my A/C on.

Upper falls on the Pishon Upper falls on the Pishon
I just never get tired of posting pictures of this

mad hatter


I had a very strange dream this morning. I had camped out in my cabin and was enjoying some extra shut-eye. I had one of those what in the world dreams that haunt you after you wake up. Most of them are forgotten in an hour or so, but I've been chewing on this one all day.

In my dream, I was driving in a city. I thought it was Cincinnati. I decided to take a route other than my usual to leave the city, and I found myself driving on an urban four-lane highway. The odd thing was, all the traffic signs were backwards, as if in a mirror or painted on the other side, away from me. I thought I might be driving the wrong way, but no, there were cars headed in the opposite direction in the lanes to my left, across the median divider, and there was at least one car I could see behind me in the lane to my right.

While I was trying to understand why the traffic signs were all wrong, I saw a pair of highway bridges coming up ahead. They were the usual open-work steel bridges, but instead of driving up onto a roadway, the asphalt shot right up onto the steel, as if I were riding a roller coaster. The pavement stopped, my car was rocketing forward onto the open steel, and as I tried to slow or stop the car, it swerved to my right, and I knew I was going to go off the right side and fall into the water, far below. I shouted, "No, God! No!"

And then I woke up (I thought). For a few moments, I couldn't tell if flying off the bridge was the reality and I was taking refuge in thinking I was asleep in my cabin, or if I were really in my sleeping bag, trying to wake up from a truly wild sleep-ender. Eventually, reality settled on the cabin loft rather than the bridge, and I was glad.