Things grow when it’s wet; my hair included, it grows tighter, into wild ringlets, and it’s pointless to attempt to control it in any way.
I am in Cleveland, at the Church Of Not Quite So Much Pain & Suffering, the Irreverend Smith and His Beloved Lady Presiding (as well a feline high priestess), and I have one curly head. The Church is a most excellent place to be on a steamily humid Cleveland summer day (or any season). Being here helps to negate a blog that I wrote in my brain during the long drive, or rather, makes me want to put it on a back burner to simmer into a more tender, subtler concoction.
After the last deluge, near Salamanca NY. Relieved, I stopped to rest by visiting the National Seneca / Iroquois Museum: informative and excellent.
It wasn’t a very pleasant drive; long copious downpours had me hydroplaning across a way too large portion of southern New York state, which made me even more grateful for old friends. I could actually hear departed friend Mr. Ed, who long before I met him had left a lucrative, company-jet style corporate job for the freedom of the road as an independent hauler, detailing his driving strategies as he did for me on one long drive during a deluge years ago. I followed his advice and arrived safely to these two folks who, like Ed did and his wife Mary still does, accept me always just as I am, as I do them. And here we are now, close in three separate worlds, surrounded by fans moving the damp air into cool eddies all around us, clicking on our keyboards and slowly beginning a day with easy flow (and perhaps more than one blog).
The Morgan Kozoland is now too vast to capture in one snapshot (though I will try).
A little later, I’ll be off to the Morgan, to begin some work in wet pulp in wet air. I stopped by yesterday while it was closed just to drop off my things and check out the kozo plantation. It can no longer just be called a garden, it is thriving in Cleveland’s fluctuations; so many things and people do.