It’s my last morning of summer. When i am done with this, I will get acupuncture, and go to my school, my classroom, and continue to get ready for this year.  One of these years, I will no longer do this.

Last night, I picked up and started reading Jim Harrison’s  “returning to the earth”.  It is moody, a man a bit younger than me, getting ready to leave. The story of his ancestor’s named Clarence.  The north woods, from Bemidji, to Duluth, Ladysmith, to the UP.  Bears. Dreams of bears.

And I somehow want to go up north, wander these places of my youth.  I remember the insatiable moodiness of Duluth, doing two years of college 76to 78.  I  go there, but know the land is  so  intense for me there.    When the sun is out, It’s all blueberries and brook trout.   But the clouds, no the impending sky is  unending, the feeling of the land is a permutation that is way beyond just some clouds. 

I feel old today and wonder how many years I have left.  I am ready to return to my class, although I have no windows to the outside, I will make it work better this year.

The feeling of finality in late August is unmistakable.  Tomato and Zuchinnini are spitting out fruit daily, like an unending marathon of fertility, while everywhere students are buying notebooks and markers and pencils with their parents, resigning themselves to the fact that it’s over.  It’s almost over.

My friends Alby left last week, not yet 60, but courageous and inspiring. He will come back soon. 

So, it is a time of conflicting energies, but I can see it now, feel the restless, and still smile.