i'm wearing pants

Each trip across America that I make strengthens my resolve to never do it again. Looking at my car is making me ill, but seeing all the neglect when I got home from the trip really made me ill. Hay that needs stacking. Chickens have assaulted the garden, the roses, the strawberries, all the flowers and most of the stacked lumber. The ground is covered with super-sized chicken shit from super-sized chickens. Heidi was happy to see me for about five minutes before she had had enough of me and decided to show me how much neglect she had felt in my absence. The lawn has lost the battle against the overpowering mallow and the house is just plain sad.

In the next few days, without a truck, I have to finish the following: Finish the fencing. Build a sacrifice area for the horses. Pick up four tons of hay and stack it. Organize all the surplus supplies that arrived in my absence. Take out a door, wall off the space and rehang that door in another spot. Cut and stack four cords of firewood. Re-edit the book. (yes, without the truck) Move twenty railroad ties out of the yard. Pick up a tractor, move three huge piles of soil. Buy four propane tanks and set them up for a butchering of evil chickens. Buy some acetylene and oxygen tanks for the welder....

It's a lot.

So it's fair to say that I am a bit stressed. A long drive. A load of work. A lot of bills and.. and... and...

The soft, full, sweet smell of an early fall. The temperature dropped thirty degrees while I was gone. A strong breeze that nature sends across the land to strip the leaves off the trees is here and it's filled with the aroma of apples, pears, walnuts... Burning wood from a fireplace.

Taking my cue from Heidi's thick coat which she seemed to grow back in the few short weeks I was away, I am wearing my work pants again. A flannel and I feel rustic and sexy. This feeling will last until I have to start scraping chicken shit off of the lumber. But until then, I am a sexy, flannel wearing man again.

Driving home, I heard all the news about what is going on in the world. Hurricane Katrina in Nawlins. Hurricane Cindy Sheehan in Crawford. Georgie the kid on vacation. Gaza Strip evicted some tenants. Planes coming out of the sky at a pace of one a day. War in Iraq. Gas prices at $3 a gallon. Hmmmm... Who cares.... It's fall again. None of what is going on right now is news. Hurricanes like to party. Cindy baby... I'm with ya. Georgie.. Big surprise. Gaza... Never been, never gonna go, could care less. Planes crashing... Any of them hit a building? No, then we don't have any tribute concerts to watch any time soon. Iraq... Give it to the mormons... They seem pretty fond of their abilities. Gas prices... Just steal it. Did I mention it's fall?

It's time for soup, coffee at night, sex with a lot of covers, fires and thick, heavy blankets. It's time for quiet still nights with just stars and the naked trees. It's time for Halloween, the juiciest holiday of them all. (please send photos of your sexy costume to me, thanks) It's time for family and friends. It's the end of summer tourists and their obnoxious presence. It's the time of sleep, sex and soup. I can't wait. There are a few things to do first, but that's all worth it.