Saturday, August 14, 2004

Greetings from a log cabin. I've hauled my big computer to the dwelling of my fencebuilder friend who lives 3 miles the other side of the creek so that I can keep going here while I struggle to resolve billing mixups with Frontier Communications. The irony is that the phone lines here at the cabin, because they are newer than my own, go at 56k instead of 26,400. Speed in the back woods. Except for waking up to dead lines and disabled Internet access on Monday morning, the week has gone pretty well and I'm gradually fitting all my stuff into the new digs. Still haven't whitewashed the greenhouse windows, and it's 120F in there every day. That's on the list for next week. The fence guy and I like each other better every day and have shown each other our favorite poems--Dylan Thomas's "Fern Hill" is his; Mathew Arnold's "Dover Beach" for me--so I expect only good things. All the cats are still alive. The coyotes still visit every night. Chorus frogs may be heard after midnight if you can stay awake that long. Fires have been burning all around and the air is pretty smoky, the morning and evening skies very red. Fernando and Lorenzo are out lying in their field. I hope this gets through. More to come. 11:39:58 AM    comment []