Keeping the balls in the air.

My son is in Europe and I haven't heard from him in a week. I'm sure he's fine, though.

My ponds are drying up. The MUSKRATS have dug holes in the dams of both our ponds and the water has spilled out, and it's dry and hot here. The beavers have fled. My duck sits atop their lodge sometimes as his habitat diminishes. We still feed him. He looks worried and vigilant.

This weekend we have to dig into the water line and put up a spicket/spigot (how do you spell that?) and run a line before it gets to the small house that will flood if the water is turned on, because of the hurricane that ruined the roof and the kitchen floor (the pipes are broken). My horse has to have fresh water because the muskrats have ruined her pond.

The jungle is creeping in on us. We need to cut some stuff away. I'm as green as the next person but we may have become entwined in vines, slowly eaten by ticks and fire ants. We are maybe too green.

Sometimes it's like paradise looking out at all the birds, rabbits, squirrels, deer, and even foxes, and then sometimes it's like the subtropical jungle, and you might need to cover yourself with mud if the air conditioner fails.

Keeping the balls in the air.

Miss'ippi. My homeland.

My father kept all the vines at bay throughout his life as a landowner. He built a house, barn, tack room, and greenhouse without the help of electricity or even a nearby road. (I know, this is ridiculous to almost contemplate).

I'm not sure whether the unrelenting folliage (every square inch of Mississippi is persistently trying to turn into a forest) or the hurricanes or our apparent lack of diligence has caused the entwinement or whether this is just the way it is.

I suddenly realize what all he has done in his life.

My duck has flown away. I hope he's okay.