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The Habitation
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a journal from Richards Bend
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November 3, 2002
The water down in the creek, I was telling somebody the other day, doesn't sound like water that flows over limestone... and they asked, what ever did I mean? - They might have thought I was talking about some geological phenomena. The creek below the place does in fact flow over and through limestone - here, and for many many miles... In fact, this little creek flows over nothing but limestone... While further east and especially south, like down on the Big South Fork watershed, the water flows over hard sandstone and other, similar rock... and, like i told this person, the flowage sounds different... it sounds different to me. To answer the question if it has anything to do with the geology, it does not... It has nothing to do with it... Even though I just said the waters sound different, the fact of the matter is, physically, they sound exactly alike... There is no experiment one could perform, at least that I know of, to measure a difference in the sounds of creek waters based on what rocks they flow over... but, staring off into the water below the place, I am sure it doesn't sound like a typical limestone creek... It sounds more like those waters of the Big South Fork watershed - the waters of my family roots - the water that runs through the higher mountains to the south - waters so magical to me, I can vanish - I can live a lifetime of imagining - picturing the grandeur in my mind, when I am away... And what is most remarkable, I am certain, while there is no physical difference in those waters from others, geochemically, geophysically, geologically, geographically, geomorphologically, hydraulically... while there is no difference, scientifically, at all - I am no less certain, there is a difference... and these waters here, at Richards Bend, sound like they belong to the Big South Fork - The difference is spiritual, and I can hear it... I can hear the difference in the physical... I hear it in the real.
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It's been an excellent weekend... I've been here, at Richards Bend - and I've only been away for no more than an hour or so... to get groceries... The rest of the time, I've been here... In some ways, the times here are so idle, it is hard not to believe I am a lazy man... And all at the same time, the times are also busy - so busy, I wonder where all the time does go... and it seems both ways... I am struck today, at how much work there is to do here... With the new stove, I've cut much wood this weekend... dead trees up on the slope - cut, chopped, moved, stacked... it's about all i've done... and I am tired.... And there is always more to do... unblock the spring where the fallen leaves have blocked its flow, sweep the floor with all the leaves blowing in or being tracked in, rocks to stack, dishes to wash, meals to cook... i've wanted to take off and hike up into the hills, to some old cabin places from back in the 1800's - old home places, long ago abandoned - falling down, and overgrown with full-grown trees... and pick around up there, in those high places all around... but i've not had time this weekend... what, with all the woodcutting...
It's the New Moon of the New Snow tomorrow... and I've lived here forty-four days.
Jon Boy arrives here Wednesday night late... for fall break... And I can hardly wait.
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