Creek Jots 2011-01-24
â˜Â I wish I’d turned the rock and found a five inch neon-colored crayfish new to science.
â˜Â Not good to change insurance providers in mid-stream. An individual would never do such a thing; their employer doesn’t give a rip if you’re screwed. I was told by the new “provider” that I could see the one hand surgeon in my 30 mile region and be covered. Insurance coverage has become an accident of geography. My original plan was to see the best doctor for the surgery–in Charlottesville, fine with Anthem. “I could get tires from Edna and Bill’s Lube and Bait Shop down the corner” I told the Aetna Axe Lady “but I’d rather have the safest tires than the cheapest.” She was unmoved.
â˜Â You can read this essay here in a few weeks if you take a notion. Meanwhile, I recorded it using SoundCloud: Good Health is a Walk in the Park. Topic: the role that nature can play in our physical and mental health. Listen to the essay (about five minutes.)
â˜Â It’s mighty quiet around here. I still think I hear the chickens gabbing and fussing over by the barn. I still reflexively look for them in their accustomed places–foraging the tips of grasses along the creek of a morning, happily scratching in the mulch around the house at mid-day, rooting down the south slope leaf litter mid-afternoon. We had grown used to them; they were a part of the pattern and flow around here for 18 months. Frankly, with this snow coming in, it will be good to do less shoveling to keep a few hens happy. Now, only the featherless one needs high-maintenance tending.
â˜Â I’ve broken into e-commerce with the first sale of Slow Road Home–the e-book at Smashwords. It only took 200+ free samples to get a paying customer! If this should represent the beginning of an income trickle, I’ll probably convert What We Hold In Our Hands to ebook format soon–provided I don’t have that hand surgery that makes me microphone dependent for what limited writing I’ll do for that six weeks.