Michael Perry's Blog, page 382

Seems To Me

You really can't call yourself a farmer unless you've got at least one purple fingernail.

Mike and Kacey on the Radio

I enjoyed speaking with Kacey (she was in New York's Hudson Valley, I was in the back room of Racy D'Lene's Coffee Lounge).  You can listen to the interview here.  I think it is important to note that as I understand it, this would never have happened if not for Kacey's persistent sister, so thanks, Maria!

Berries

Not sure if it's a good year or a bad year for berries, seems average-ly decent here.  Handfuls of black caps and raspberries if you're willing to take a scratch or two.  The three-year-old scared the bejeebers out of me the other day when she wandered from the sandbox and disappeared.  Was getting frantic when I found her down by the pole barn, deep in the brambles, all purple-mouthed and happy.

Things I've Learned…

If you're trying to pull up one of those step-in fence posts and it just won't budge, no matter how hard you grunt and heave, umm, check to make sure you're not standing on the step-in.

All You Need To Know

Regarding the state of my agricultural endeavors: For Father's Day, my tots gave me a gift labeled "Dad's Favorite Fencing Tool."

Inside the wrap was a packet of bungee cords.

Off For A Run

Supposed to participate in a very brief road race today.  Although I'm typing this the night before – so there's always the possibility I've overslept.  The race begins at 9 a.m.  This is uncivilized.  Why not, say, 2 p.m.?  Or 5 p.m. if I needed a nap?  Then I could run the race and go straight to supper.  That'd be nice.

Sad, True, Maybe Perfect?

Driving around listening to the new John Prine tribute album including Justin Townes Earle's version of "Far From Me" and thinking it might be the most perfect breakup song ever.  Something about the combination of specific details and understatement that nails that quiet, deadly, sinking feeling you get when you know it's over.  Just a taste:

Well, ya know, she still laughs with me

But she waits just a second too long.

Complete lyrics here.

This Man Changed My Life

Perhaps some day I will be able to write the piece that adequately explains the debt I owe Jim Harrison.  For now, it is enough to say that when I read Just Before Dark sometime around 1995, it blew my writing to bits.  How clearly I remember sitting in the old green chair on Main Street in New Auburn, reading and reading and reading and marking and making notes and then reading everything else he had written to that point, and hungrily attempting to apply everything I was learning to my own ...

Long Beds at the Opera House

On a cold winter night back a year or two, I did a humorous monologue at the Mineral Point Opera House.  Then I hauled them Long Beds onstage.  A gentleman named Ross brought back those memories when he forwarded this Flickr album of the show.  This was before Molly joined the band.

The New Coop

We still have to paint it.  Working on that this week.  But the chickens are installed and happy.  More info in the captions.

The night before we allowed the chickens in, my eldest daughter and I camped out in it.

Thanks to cousin Ivan, a professional home builder who will likely never build one of these things again.