January 19th, 2016


wild child

"Wild thang, I think I love you..." runs through my head. I've known a lot of wild children, and I've been one myself. I seem to have lost my wildness though I hung on to it tightly, doing a "Dead Tour" at age 51; I discovered I could still be a wild child. Funny, what negative feelings I experience when I think of myself in that role of wild child, living on the road, doing immense amounts of pyschedelics and truly enjoying myself. I think, instead I should be celebrating my opportunity to have had those intense experiences, to truly live wild and free. No one was injured in the filming of the movie though many were changed. 1997 that was....the year my father and my favorite cat ever both died. I came back home in about 3 weeks.

2003 found me on the road to Montana, alone, having met an interesting fellow Rainbow family member. I bit of wildness came out again. Another wild child adventure, grist for the mill for sure. I was in Hot Springs, MT for about a month or so, very interesting little (and I mean little) town. Near a Native American reservation with awesome hot springs. Good for what ails you.

I came home. Anah was born and because I wanted to be a different sort of role model, I haven't been a wild child very much since then. But I suppose she's in there, still, waiting for Spring, when wild things come alive.


Driving North

I can't drive directly north from my home because the road runs east and west. I suppose I could go 4 wheeling over the pasture that lies to the North, but I doubt that happens. I have to drive a mile or so until I get to a long stretch of highway that runs north, zigging and zagging along gravel country roads, taking Hwy 24 to the Hwy 63 Jct and then it goes north for a long way - all the way to Wisconsin. I've been to Minneapolis once in January. It can be seriously cold up there.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, a nasty habit of mine, so let's go back to Hwy 63. It was two lanes for ever so long, but now is four and I suppose carries a lot of folks north. It's dotted with the remains of quaint old towns where only ghosts live now. About 22 miles out is Macon, a nice small town or so it seems. I've never lived there, but have in the past shopped there or had lunch.

From there it seems a long way to Kirksville.It's a larger town and boasts some small colleges. My husband used to work there a lot before he retired. He said it was always much colder there than here, no matter it's only 60 miles away. Soon the Iowa line appears and all those corn fields.