Why should life be uneasier and uneasier and uneasier?  Well, let’s count the ways, and not just because yet another water heater pooped out during my shower.  Or not…but not only are

there no longer any little sweet red peppers at Safeway but how Safe is the Way anyway given the number of redhot missiles the Iranians are piling up underground in anticipation of all those duplicitous untrustworthy/untrusting Enemies surrounding them? And why shouldn’t

they; if the Israelis or anyone remotely like them were MY desert neighbors I’d be pretty uneasy, myself. Let alone having the duplicitously unpredictable USA! USA! after my ass*.

But, back to the Project…by now maybe 2010 with a portrait from Libre, Brendt’s ’35 Vicky,

and Lefty at our accustomed Heather Glen rest stop on the way over the hill.

Libre, too, back when we got back to New York a lot more

while out west the Burners were discovering ‘out enjoying the country’ in their own peculiar

ways, God bless ’em, and I was out enjoying

Wall Spring, Vernon, Tunnel Camp and the Seven Troughs Range…

Or here in the present watching “Vera” by night into the last last reels…all 72 of ’em, to February

2011, west from Brokenlight Customs** in Berthoud and the eventual evolution of the ’45

from then on…which with more than a little help from Matt Seret [running boards] and Shawn Hibma-Cronan [bed] was eventually properly configured just before the film ran out…

Before that though, a classic trip to Drummond Basin [not shown] through McDermitt [above]

and, as always, dogs.  Lefty, Aggie in her prime…with Specky in his just before

he departed to the Great Beyond, all too soon…

winding down…so, after half a century,

the film camera finally attained obsolescence.  The next morning I walked Sumi

down among the Greater Scaups and home through the alley to breakfast;

next stop Eagle Lakes…then,

Willey having said the road out of Doyle was maintained by the solar guys at Fish Springs [whose idea of maintenance begins and ends with dumping water in the potholes], on to Sand

Pass [after crossing paths with a disconcerting convoy of ATVs sporting blinding lights and those ubiquitous Flags*] for a rudimentary lunch and

lowflying aircraft. The sound of motors in the distance made me most uneasy***,

but the Trumptrain fortuitously failed to return; kept on keeping on to…wherever.

Water was on the desert, on the desert up north

at Wall as well where

I was unloaded by 4:30, phone dysfunctional but otherwise all swell. Or so it seemed…

*Not that a certain hyena-like minority of it wouldn’t be, as evidenced, if only they knew.

**James was great to work with but eventually stopped building and moved to Arizona.

***Existentially dreading the possibility, out there in Nowhere…