November Day

A man is rich in proportion to the number of things he can afford to let alone.” – Henry David Thoreau


Mornings and evenings are brisk.  I enjoy this weather.  The straw bale house is cozy and there’s a lot of contrast to when I outside where it’s cold enough to see my breath.  The goats watch the door.  The instant I appear they call out loudly.  They’re ready to be turned out so they can work on maintaining their fat, wooly figures. 


I went for a walk.  Down the road about a quarter-mile to a dry creek bed.  Massive pecan trees grow next to it.  I walked under the bridge and into the creek.  Then I sat on a large rock for awhile.  Quiet sounds of the woods.  Birds, pecans falling out of trees, the occasional shuffle of leaves as an unseen creature (armadillo maybe?) forages.

I thought about living more remote.  Somewhere a person has the ability to walk through wilderness.  I’ve been places like that.  I’m drawn to them over and over.

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