Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Potato Fields, a Mountain and a Brown River

Haystack Reappears
I am trying my hardest NOT to write poetry today, but it is so difficult for me somehow. It seems my brain wants some structure to follow or try to conform to in my writing lately.  I'm not going to succumb to the poet's voice inside. I want to just write like plain old sentences.
I awoke too early.  The sun is up early here owing to our more easterly location in Maine. There was too much light filtering in through the bedroom blinds nudging me.
The other problem that wouldn't necessarily come to mind until you try to sleep in a peaceful little farming town with one main road is, if you live on that main road, the farm trucks, 18-wheelers and log haulers must go by your house.  With our windows open, the trucks rumbled past the foot of our bed. This was a bit harsher nudge.
So we got up early...5:14 AM ...turned on our computers for awhile before breakfast, and then went exploring in the car.
The first half of the day was spent riding around the countryside of northern Maine looking, for me, and reminiscing, for my husband.   The sky is big here.  Rolling hills of potato country make for expansive views.  It was a mostly cloudy day, but the views were still awesome (in Maine we might say the view was "wicked awesome" which is a step above "way awesome").
After our return to the house, we sat and watched a storm move in over Haystack Mountain. For something called a mountain, it is pretty small, but still not quite small enough for me to climb.
Most storms approach from the west, right in line with Haystack.  Today being cloudy, we watched as the mountain captured a cloud with its peak.  And pretty soon a whole herd of clouds gathered around, encircling the peak.  As the clouds melded into one huge cloud, they completely enveloped the mini-mountain. At that point we knew that rain would arrive in a matter of minutes.
And rain it did. It poured and poured. For awhile we sat with the dog and enjoyed the rain from the safety of the covered patio. The thunder and lightning that arrived shortly thereafter made us change our minds and head inside...the dog was nervous anyway!
From the comfort of the living room we looked out and watched a newly born brown river flowing between the fields and in the ditches...someone's nice topsoil and fertilizer heading somewhere else to surprise some unsuspecting weeds with a free meal.

1 comment:

  1. The words are just as good in prose, & it was so interesting to me to hear your descriptions of this place new to me, so different from the Rockies. We'd love a storm like you described once in a while. The end connection is too funny-& not so much for the farmers.

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