March 30, 2021
My new apartment is somewhat treehouse-like. I’m on a level with a few dozen local squirrels, nuthatches, robins, and mourning doves. Twice now, a determined creature trying to climb or land outside my window has been startled by my giant face peering out.
The same window looks onto the comings and goings of my new community. This is exactly what I was hoping for when I moved here — not so I could spy on anyone, but so I could be surrounded by sound and color and movement beyond what’s generated in my building. There are even tourists around, which for me is a welcome addition to the scene.
Although I’ve lived here for just two weeks, one pattern has already emerged. I’ve observed many people parking their cars and then just sitting there. There are stores nearby, but these folks don’t head right in. I’ll glance out again and see them still in their seats. More than likely, they’re scrolling on their phones or waiting to meet up with friends. But part of me hopes they’re taking time to look at the place where they find themselves.
This town has fascinated me for 15 years. What started as a family day trip destination grew to hold an almost spiritual significance for me, representing pure calm and beauty. For a few years, I called it my favorite place on the planet. Now it’s home to some dear friends, and to me!
In a time when so little is certain, I count myself extremely fortunate. I live in this wonderful place. Not only did I keep my job during a global pandemic; I ended up with a more stable one. My blog is still going strong (I think) and has been featured in local free publications, including this one last week.
This next request might sound contradictory, then. But while April 1st is just two days away, I’m completely serious. Not “trouble” serious, just “putting on my writer’s hat” serious.
It takes time and money to get written work out into the world. I value my time, like everyone should. I also pay a fee to have my domain name and keep pesky ads out of your reading experience.
Make no mistake: you’re already helping me just by continuing to read my words. I’ll only ask this once on here, and I won’t pursue it in other venues. My writer’s hat is staying on my head and not getting passed around. But if you’re like me and you’ve realized the bounty you have even in difficult times, then perhaps you’d share a small corner of that with me.
Paypal is the place to go, or mail to PO Box 771, Spring Green, WI 53588.
I hope I can see each one of you in person as that kind of thing becomes safe again.