Volunteers

I have a tiny farm on my desk, a couple of sheep, a pig, a chicken, and a hedgehog. On the other side, there is a herd of elephants, and then the whole cat cathedral, complete with a collage of the seven cats we have served over the years: Comet and Sunspot, Phil, Kiki and Jackson, Zora and Ursula. I bring up the farm after yesterday’s trip to the State Fair, which, like the Tulsa Zoo, was quite animal-free. Well, it was too hot for man or woman or beast. We went into one arena to get A/C and watch the heifer class for dairy, but once the initial ah of walking in it became too warm to comfortably stay. Pretty sure all the animals that have been shown have headed home. This is the final weekend, and temps are supposed to top out at 100, could feel like 107-115. Yikes and yikes.

The tomatoes love the heat, and I gathered more than a pound this morning. These are all volunteers. The only things I planted were Cosmos, Zinnias, and Sunflowers. The only thing that has come up are Cosmos and Tomatoes. No complaints.

I’m looking back at my weak (left) hand writing from two years ago:

“The dog came to me on the third day. It sat at the edge of my vision, a peripheral movement in and out of the firelight. During that night it crept into my camp and touched its nose to my hand.”

Has this been waiting like a patient and loyal friend to join a story I am just now working on? It feels like a dream, and the story is such a dreamlike thing.

Well. Here are some pictures: a couple of messages from the Bob Dylan Center (Dylan & Santana ’84 that’s me), and the other is a giveaway. My farm, those red orbs, a butter sculpture.

Let’s all write a poem today as a defense against stupidity and hate. Be kind, stay cool.