070618 spring fed pond Here’s where my inscription would go, or disclaimer I guess you could say, although that doesn’t sound reverent enough, about how I’m leaving many if not all of the most important parts out, because my little crawfish mind isn’t capable of grasping, let alone representing the heartache implicit in the green and blue and mud of the spring fed pond when Celi’s freckled nose crunches up and she says, “This too is more fun than I thought it would be. I like fishing and swimming and doing activities while camping.” Woke up in the middle of the night. Dreams of bears. The presence of water. An ancient presence. Absence of internet an ancient absence. Presence of Anne and my own deepest insecurities. Feeling like a used up gene pod. What’s my point. At some point before we’re done here I’m going to have to take a massive shit. I didn’t bring enough clothes. Barely warm enough to sleep. Profoundly uncomfortable. Kind of pissed off. Can’t believe it’s only 3:03. Evolution is a never-ending story. We’re one of the loci you can zoom in on. The river rock we play with and toss back into the water with a plop is another age’s indescribably precious talisman. On an infinite line, every point’s the middle, right? I suppose some mathematician could prove that wrong, but it feels pretty true right now. Later the day brought some other good stuff. Went to Sam A, parked at bridge. Scraped car bottom a tad. Floated down. Lib and meg jumped off a rock ledge into creek. Forgot my shoes. Felt hitch in my back on way down the rocks to the water; it’s still kind of iffy. Sunburn a little bit. Leftover pancakes do make a good snack for this kind of a day. She was right about that. Cel looked adorable catching minnows and crawfish. Seems like she bonded with Ben a bit. I think Matthew wants to impress Megan a little bit. Clam chowder. I hate cooking with Anne somewhat. I have issues with her still. Partly based on being jealous of her competence and skills. I wish I could just be totally obedient and submissive but it’s not that simple, and so I bristle instead. The clam chowder is good though and so was the halibut. Littles and Ben and a little bit Matthew fish out of the spring pond with cane poles. I have a couple Stella Artois that I paid too much for at the store when I got the worms. I watch how Anne releases the fish so I’ll at least appear more confident when I do it. Still, one of the little barbs stabs my finger a little bit when I don’t quite smooth it down right on one. Cel catches a crawfish that she then catches a fish with. Everyone catches a few. There are a couple of actually full size fish in there (Anne says they look like trout) but nobody has caught those. Lib catches two that get the hooks so far in neither Anne nor I are able to get them out without damage. I know I killed the one I tried. It’s no secret I ripped its guts out. I felt incompetent, like someone who wouldn’t survive if something happened. Libby was bummed but decided to keep fishing anyway. Anne said “Not everything lives, and that’s OK.” Millie listened to music via her phone on the porch. Megan took two naps. Matthew watched the rest of national treasure and mil and I partly did too. Cel didn’t like the chowder and that bugged me more than it needed to. Millie ate fish. Ben made quesadillas very noisily but with considerable pride and organizational fussing around. Wonder where he gets that from. He said “I wish there was a little dinner bell.” Anne rapped me on the head with one of my empty beer cans and said “how many of those have you had?” for some reason. WTF? That kept me pissed off for a while. I just shrugged, although the answer was four. I didn’t end up having any more though. The trunk of the car smells foul. Megan’s sunburn made her cold and she wore a Simpson’s blanket. Cel came running up to the kitchen door saying “I caught another fish and I don’t know what to do with it!!” S’mores. She brought the giant marshmallows. She got bit by an ant and took a shower and asked me to go get her pajamas and I tried extra hard not to stare at the full color silhouette of her through the tv interference of the glass blocks. A bird or something that makes a reedy upward rough glissando. She says it’s a raptor—predator is the word she chooses first, and I don’t really think so because it’s too quiet and breathy, but I’m not going to argue. Megan got mad at cel and went inside with a huff and took her meds and lay down. She also got mad at Millie who didn’t cooperate with her plan to leave the bathroom light on. Anne had me rub the hyper-knots in her right arm with this balm stuff and the back edge of a butter knife. Millie got mad at Megan because she said she would leave the light on if Megan would switch sides but Megan didn’t even answer her. There were some breezes in the tops of the sycamores, walnuts, oaks etc, and some cumulonimbus peeking over, but still no rain. Megan and Millie quietly fighting hard now over covers and stuff. Jesus Fucking Christ. Millie goes to sit on the floor in exasperation. I finally have to intervene to get them to knock it the fuck off and get situated. The roots of the biggest tree by the spring make gnarled highways through the grass. The denizens who live along the farthest reaches, as far away from the trunk as are the branches in that galaxy overhead, they’re strangers to us. Their ways, their tongue, their sinewy survival speaks of legendary other worlds ... other trees ... beyond imagination.