I wait for the first sign of dawn, but “Daylight Savings” has cheated me at 5:30. Instead, I marvel at the Milky Way and every constellation, laid out across a dark and moonless sky.
There is no reason to go back, ever.
Except the economic one, how to pay back the debt and purchase other incidentals, and the future cost for two more helpings of what passes for “higher education.”
We educated ourselves yesterday, learning how to inoculate post oak logs with the spore of the delicious shiitake mushroom (hat tip to the inimitable Robert Brady).
We planted peach trees and carved another 50 by 75-foot piece of space from the forest behind the barn, gradually reclaiming earth and sun to make room for persimmons and apples and maybe even some more figs.
There is no reason to go back and engage the hourly “news” machine or the endless email spam or the endless commutes to Corporateville or slogs back to watch the undulating waves of suburbia wash over spent cotton fields and those tired little towns still standing impossibly in the way of the irresistible Houston amoeba.
Yesterday we rediscovered a coffee substitute, growing everywhere around here and formerly known as the underbrush.
May I ask? May I ask my doctor: Trade my annual check-up for these fresh shiitakes? Trade this Underbrush Coffee for a month’s electricity? May I trade these peaches for a mortgage payment? How many figs for a tank of gas?