One June Day
From Introduction to 25th Anniversary of The Fountainhead, Ayn Rand
“In a play I wrote in my early thirties, Ideal, the heroine, a screen stars speaks for me when she says: “I want to see, real living, and in the hours of my own days, that glory I create as and illusion. I want it real. I want to know that there is someone, somewhere, who wants it, too. Or else what is the use of seeing it and working , and burning oneself for an impossible vision? A spirit , too, needs fuel. It can run dry.”
At this time of my life, I am not certain I can wade through The Fountainhead; it is a large and forboding looking book; however, reading the words of her intro gave me insight to my own life. Never have I lived with, or cared for illusions, or myths, or false people, and there have been very few of them in my life; those who were did not last very long, except for perhaps two, who were there longer than I needed them, though through all of their time in my life, I knew of their falseness and inner evil. Not the kind that kill or maim, the evil that comes from the tongue and words that sometimes hurt a heart more than a physical blow.
My time now is spent in almost contentment, with doing the things I can around the yard, getting a few things done at the cabin with help from my friend; we have plans for a time there the 4th. of July after the parade in our little town. Right now, friend S and I are assembling a grill at the cabin; it is being done in stages, we are hoping the last stage will be the 4th and that we might use it that day; we do have Plan B, that will be to start the charcoal before we try to finish the grill and at least if we don’t get it all done, we can still do our steaks.
I never did get back to try the fish again, though I keep telling myselfe the winter got them, I am going to try again. Their dam is out of its banks, and looks wonderful, such a good place for a home for fish, it is also a good nesting ground for the ducks that are living there this summer.
One of the fun things on the drive out to the cabin is watching for the swans (not sure if they are Whistler or Trumpeter); the book calls Whistling Swans, Tundra, so what we are seeing must be Trumpeter, as it looks like the Tundras are much darker. Beautiful birds, and staying in this area to nest is rather rare.
Things have been very quiet around the cabin, it is a time for the young and the animals are staying near refuge, plus, there seems to be an oversupply of those big, gray, beastly flies that pester everything in sight. The cattle are in tight bunches most of the day.