Tuesday, November 20, 2007
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Brakes, we gotta have brakes
Lost my brakes wandering around in the dark looking for the entrance to Wal-Mart. From the location of the Wal-Mart sign in the near corner of the mall I mistook the street before it as the entrance and found myself headed steeply down a narrow windy road with squishy brakes. Not fun.
Night camp: Wal-Mart parking lot in South Charleston WV
They do not Intrude on Each Other
The San Francisco Mountain lies in northern Arizona, above Flagstaff, and its blue slopes and snowy summit entice the eye for a hundred miles across the desert. About its base lie the pine forests of the Navajos, where the great red-trunked trees live out their peaceful centuries in that sparkling air. The pinons and scrub begin only where the forest ends, where the country breaks into open, stony clearings and the surface of the earth cracks into deep canyons. The great pines stand at a considerable distance from each other. Each tree grows alone, murmurs alone, thinks alone. They do not intrude on each other. ...
The Song of the Lark, Willa Cather, p265, Houghton Mifflin Co paperback edition 1987