Above, the sky is grey, but as I look down across the river it gradually takes on the texture of dark cotton, and then a thin blue reasserting itself to the horizon. This blue is broken by the naked crowns of trees which have stripped themselves for the winter, contrary to human fashion.
Many of these trees remain green for the moment; they are upstarts, risking their lifeblood for another inch of growth before winter's reign, and thus to have some slight advantage over their neighbors on catching the light of spring.
The bank slopes down two pinkies to the water; the first half of this is populated by brush and weeds lit by some otherworldly sun; for the sky has no brightness, but the plants glow green atop and cast red shadows, unlike any earthly light,
The remainder of the shore is a staircase of sick chocolate mud -- roughly seven steps of uncertain height. Here and there it has been colonized by the red-green herbs treading slowly down to the river.
The water is smooth now, trickling
This shore surely mirrors the other
On this rocky way lies a log, rotten on one end and cut on the other, which might have been placed there for viewing or fishing the waters except for its accidental angle. Instead of fishing tackle box, a cardboard carton of eggs sits on it, six eggs occupying the center, and six cups on either side of these filling & degrading from rainwater. Beside the log sites a small stove sheathed in a metal windshield, a bottle of fuel & a blue mesh bag
The white rocks lead up to a deer trail, ten feet connecting to a
To the right of the mowed circle is a naked tree 50 foot high, branching like the passages of a lung. It is alone here but for a yellow offspring cowering out from its left, half as tall, but still clothed.
These trees became unacceptable for toilet when I became aware of the secret building watching from behind their blinds of trees. The
Then I returned to my tent where I have waited out the day. It was pitched on the fourth (or 5th) mud step, wider than the others, and covered with a dead yellow moss that proved
PL*. Finished Titus Groan today. Prayer for Owen Meany is feared dead before reading.
PPL. A rainbow forms across the river. Behind, the air turns gold, pink, fading to blue above.
The (two) lonely trees are joined at the trunk?
The deer path is populated by poison ivy, just tinged with red, brown cockleburrs and a weed of deep lavender, its seeds arranged in decreasing clusters from its base to its peak.
PPPL. One an of rainbow on farm with two sheds & 5 silos.
[* - PL is short for "post line" indicating a comment added after the horizontal line which generally marks the end of a notebook entry.]
Day 107 ended: 49*30.677N, 097*13.478W