My maternal-unit discovered this wonderfully odd news item about an 88 year-old woman who drove off the side of the road and into a blackberry thicket that was so thick, the car was swallowed up, and nearly invisible. It tells about how she survived several days trapped, by blackberry vines, in her car, before someone found her.
The rain has, thankfully, subsided of late; only .61 inches today. That is good, because things that shouldn't be in danger of washing away were. Like the one-lane bridge that crosses Cedar Creek and is the only access to our neighborhood. Luckily the pasture downstream is low and was able to fill-up with some of the excess water. The horses might feel a bit put out by it, but the fish are probably really enjoying the extra elbow-room. That last phrase really tickled me. But then I'm a little rummy from the fast pace of the week.
This is the kind of mood that lets you write something really inane, and just be pleased as punch over your cleverness. For instance:
River swelling high
How do the fish survive it?
Swim out to pasture
I wrote some other piece of doggerel a few months ago and thought it was the most profound thing since the last nietzche quote I heard. A couple weeks later I read it, expecting to lift my ego, but instead felt utter shock and dismay at how truly banal and lacking in substance it was. If my perceptions can be so wrong on any given day, I better tie myself to the mast, you know?
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