allowing the weather to dictate my days, yesterday the sun invited us to climb the mountain to the one old growth douglas fir, it's bark scarred from several fruitless blows of the axe and saw; this one blusters it's orders to stay indoors, write letters and organize.
i'm campaigning for the cause of handwritten letters. yes, i'm an old fashioned type who would rather ride a horse than drive a car, rather cook on cast iron than teflon, and believes a homemade pie is not a homemade pie without a homemade crust (duh). i also have a penchant for mystery and longing. both of which are quite at home in the land of letters. there is nothing so romantic as a piece of paper that has traveled across oceans, mountains, highways, and rivers to arrive in one's own mailbox. for those love-lorn souls who fancy a simple (but not easy) way into a heart from a by-gone era, there is no better way.
i've noticed i'm not the most lovable person face to face. i always seem to screw things up by getting weary of the person, or failing to love them good enough. this doesn't seem to be a problem when the one who loves me is thousands of miles away writing furiously from a cage. while i sometimes lament my singleness, i know that i am single because i haven't learned how to be coupled yet. this letter affair is a slow, torturous tutorial in how to articulate the terms of love, and how to build the framework of a relationship. enjoyable? yes. satisfying? not at all. it's all a tenuous balance on a high-wire surrounded by the abyss of folly. but i'd rather take my chances than stay home.
For Pinto, who is free
1 day ago