Sunday, March 29, 2015

homeward bound, soon to be

I’m gearing up to head home through L.A. lights across the desert over the mountains to the prairies and flatlands and wheat and cattle and soy beans and fields of windmills to the bluffs of Ole Man River, on past through rolling hills winding up through northern woods, spring blossoms, narrow roads, dwindling traffic, as if a trail of smoke, that trail now a wisp, a faint scent, a story one can just barely, maybe, remember.

Owl

I’ll drop off a load of candles at The Las Vegas Farm and pick up some hunks of raw beeswax at a bee farm somewhere in Iowa just off I-80. Have you ever thought what an adventure this country is? Of course! Just hop in your car and go! Drive across country! What an adventure! Get the dog, get the cat, hit the road!

The Cat & The Dog

But first, I, anyway, have to load the van with two tons of stuff. Most of it beeswax-related. Including a few pounds of some wonderful, old, dark beeswax I got here in California from a retired beekeeper.

Old California Beeswax

So Josie and Elliott and I and the beeswax are heading home. Will we ever leave home again?

I have a fantasy of going to live at The Farm, helping to take care of the rescued animals and painting signs and selling sweet tea and candles on Saturday, all the while wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat because it is, of course, hot and sunny. Yes, I would faint. If you need me, if you want me, find me passed out in the barn.

I also have a fantasy of rescuing old beeswax stacked up in the corners of garages of retired beekeepers from hither to yon. Making candles of different hues and scents, all natural, all beeswax, all indicative of that place I’ve been. If you need me, if you want me, come find me out there on the road.

And I have a fantasy of never leaving home again. Of sitting on my front porch with a cup of tea or a glass of wine through all kinds of weather, dreaming, sighing, maybe smiling, quietly. Yes, yes, if you need me, if you want me, you know, you’ll know, exactly where I am.

Sunset From The Porch