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I’m back from town now (a very little town, very short trip).  I ran into people I know – brought to mind some repeated questions:

“Why do you do this work with your mother’s letters if it hurts you/makes you sick/doesn’t make anything better/when you don’t need to do it?”

I guess suddenly it looks like a sacrifice.  Nothing wrong with making sacrifices.  I believe something in the work I do will help someone else.  So I sacrifice for that.

Also, it is very good to get back here to my very quiet little corner of the world.  I am armed with ice cream, mile and crackers – steer manure, garden soil, sphagnum moss, flower fertilizer – another bag of Portland cement.

I am tired now.  That’s OK.  I added a few little thoughts to my previous post – now, time for a rest.

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