I do feel the fool, and moreso lately, as my enthusiasm peaks of an early morning, while I prepare to share some found thing, some shiny object of nature or curious motion I see in human culture.
But then, I’ve always felt a bit foolish writing to strangers on this blog since it started a few months before this allegorical homily from July 2002.
But the sense of futility, over the years, and especially the past several, grows steadily downward, as more strangers drive on past, lost on a misdirected turn to find something I don’t have and never would. I don’t expect conversation any more, or even a second time by. Must be, that’s enough to keep me even now fairly regular setting up my roadside stand first thing most every day now for nine years.
Why do I do it? I don’t suppose I’ll ever quite figure it out. And I wonder if the time will ever come when, one morning on a whim, I’ll just collect my small cages and sepia-toned images, gather them into the barn for good, wipe the ink off my hands, and be done. If there’s any time to be had after that, I’ll fill such space as I once used for such foolish hopes with some other useless but hopeful endeavor. Or none at all.
I suppose we’ll just have to wait until the end of the story to find out.
The Strange Farmer of Erewhon: a blogger’s allegory by Fred First, July 2002
Barn pen and ink of our barn by Ron Campbell, Dreamcatcher Meadows, Floyd VA