I’m blogging this evening from the west bank of The Unnamed River (TUR), which runs through the back end of the Rawles Ranch. I brought my lawn chair, my laptop, a Jump-N-Carry 12VDC jump pack, and a can of root beer. As I’m writing this, I have my boots propped up on a big chunk of basalt and I’m watching some 7″ to 12″ trout cruise by. (But I remind myself that I’m working, so they will have to wait for another day.) It is about 75 degrees, and sunny. Three Merganser ducks paddled by a few minutes ago. The only distraction is a pesky yellow jacket wasp that has caught a whiff of my root beer. Mental note: Next time, to raise the experiential perfection quotient by bringing ice water instead.
According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, I live near the poverty level, but at times like this, I feel very richly blessed. The Reverend Jesse Jackson thinks it a shame that I don’t earn a “living wage” and that I’m under-insured. But I wouldn’t trade my life here for anything. Certainly not for another stint in the corporate world. No way!