Canyon Summer
July 6, 2026
A couple months ago I dug back into and deleted some bitter posts and passages. I did need to get it out, but now it’s gone, time to move on, like brushing my teeth twice after a bad meal. No fear of that now. I am feeding us steak, eggs, cream, fish, vegetables. I am welcome, I am safe.
There is beauty in the quiet chaos here. There are swarms of ladybugs. The air is sublime, the slight wind in the redwoods is audible behind my tinnitus. Sometimes I hear distant traffic, the world out there.
A tiny junco just popped into the van to look for redwood seed.
I feel like I am death cleaning- well, I am, in fact. Art’s 8+ day fast has him weak with low-bp headaches and no sense of healing. We are ever planning, hopeful, that it does not get worse, at least stayed if not resolved. I am finding stacks of random papers and books and romex and wooden puzzles in buckets and gift bags and supplements prescribed from western oncologists and chinese herbalists. Sorting bills from detritus and junk mail needs attention, and every scrap carries an emotional burden.
<‘m~ >:m~ <“m~ >:m~ <‘m~ >:m~ <“m~ >:m~ <‘m~ >:m~ <“m~
I’m adjusting life in the van, too. After running my battery down a couple months ago, I plugged the cord we used for the charger into my on-board power so I can keep my phone and laptop charged when I’m not in the house. My phone is my only connection with Art from here–he can call or text from bed, or the kitchen, or the deck–he is the only person that is my only connection to.
We cancelled our performance at Cotati this year. The Saw Festival will be a one-day affair. I don’t know the plans for Sunol. Will he have the strength to play, at all?
I have spent precious time puttering in the Roofing House, remembering ideas I had, making lists. I need those colors for the Saline Valley painting. I need more blue for the floor stencil. We have a cat now, I can leave tubes of paint out without fear.
I don’t know when I’ll be home again. I may just live here for a while.
My old sink, moved to the rinsing station. Ilex? Guava? IDK; A stove much like ours down the tracks, but white, with a wood burner and right-handed configuration.
Artistry in Shingles nearby; a redwood branch visits my van window.
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