I smell of grease.
This morning I went into Bethlehem with my step-father to help strip a machine for The Doc. My hands are sore, a bit scraped up and there are thin shards of metal in my fingertips (mostly removed by now, I think) but I don’t see any of this as a bad thing.
It really is fun to strip something down and make it work again. Though not as metaphorically complex as the work at the shop, where we strip, clean and piece back together, there’s still something satisfying about simply replacing the bearing casings and getting covered in grease. Though I have to say it’s ridiculously hard to turn a screwdriver when both it and you are slicked with food grade lubricant.
Additionally, I’m inspired by Eireann Lorsung to, instead of crashing right now, start creating. There are more hours in the day than I allow for, and I should be painting, writing, sewing and all sorts of other things. Enough of this funk, it’s time to shake out.
Out before the day lilies had opened this morning, and I hope to be working long after they’ve shut again. I like the idea of using flowers as a sundial of sorts. Always, back to the flowers and the way chickory looses it’s color as soon as it’s pressed. The fireflies rising out of the lawn towards darkness. There are things to write about here, and I’m going at it again.