Saturday, February 20, 2010
LXXX: Primary Sources
I looked out at mainstreet yesterday on break. Empty and cold. I know everyone in every building, almost. Which is as depressing as it is reassuring.
After work I packed my Tree essays into a box and hid them away in a dark corner (they've had me spinning in circles for a little too long). Then coveralls, toque, boots, and I was out the door and onto my lawn. It was just me, a fold-out chair, and the Crooked Tree seedling. I studied the texture of the bark and its already meandering shape. Thought about having a cigarette. Didn't.
I heard Clarke behind me. "That thing is gonna block my view in a couple years," he said, dragging a chair from his lawn onto mine.
I'd never considered that before. I said nothing.
"So tell me again why you planted this thing?" he grunted, sitting down.
"I dunno Clarke. But I'm glad I did."