I’ve been here, on the mountain side, in the high desert for a few months now and I am just settling in- making a house that I’ve filled with my stuff into my home. I’m getting to know the neighbors. One has died already, one is moving. One is in Alaska for six weeks. I’m watering
his plants, and have my fillet knife sharpened and ready for when he returns with fish.
I’ve been ttaveling so long I’d forgotten what a wonderful thing it is when not only your heart, but your space is opened up to receive the love of friends; what a delightful thing it is to laugh your ass off, share ideas, secrets, fears, and libation..
I spend as much of my alone time as possible climbing on the spectacular rocks that line the rushing Kern River, and evenings marveling at the sky that puts on a show almost nighty, but, the hot springs have stolen my heart. Apparently they are everywhere. Some of them have been bought up and are off limits, and at least one has been destroyed by the forest service. No one seems to know why. But, a few miles from me, there is Remmington. Off a winding road, a climb down a steep hill to the river where you will find concrete tubs full of hot water for basking.
The hot, sulfuric water is healing, it’s a gift from the Great Spirit to cleanse the body and soul, it releases tension, it’s erotic.
A few weeks ago, Joy’s band, Blue Mustard was singing at the Father’s Day Blues Fest. Afterwards, she, my friend Phil, and I went to the springs. A couple of days ago, Ginger came to visit. We went to to the springs. Come visit. I’ll take you there.