It only took about 5 hours, but I got it all done.

The mayor came by and posed for pictures on my leafless front walk and, frankly, the whole village was astir. They had forgotten what my sidewalk actually looked like under all those piles of dead leaves. They decided to take some of those photos of the mayor on my leafless front walk and seal it in a time capsule that they then buried on the grounds behind the old abandoned elementary school.

Just kidding, of course. But it sure does look a lot nicer out there. And the statue of St. Francis looks delighted to be surrounded by blossoms again.

And it didn’t rain again until long after dark.

In fact, it was the most perfect evening.

A couple weeks ago, I posted the cover art for one of my books-in-progress, Girl in the Night: Erotic Love Letters to the Muse. The original photo for the cover was taken from my bedroom window at night – the window right across from my bed.

The photo was taken in late fall, just as a train was arriving. Since it was fall, though, it doesn’t capture how it feels to be hidden behind all of those amazing green leaves that are out there now, but you get the idea, I hope.

The streets are usually just incredibly quiet in the evening. Except when suddenly a freight train goes barreling past with its whistle screaming. (My whole house shakes then. It can be kind of frightening but I still just love that train.)

And I also just love to lie across my bed in the dark and listen to music and stare out my open window at that view. It’s kind of ancient, you know? The village is nearly 200 years old, and it’s surrounded by old burial grounds that are a couple thousand years old. From before the Native Indians were even here. There’s a feeling, a spirit, that comes through my open windows at night that is palpable. It really is.

It’s sort of an erotic feeling, but then, apparently everything in the known universe is erotic to me.  (And I’m guessing that the unknown universe — once I get to know that, too — is going to feel off the charts for me.)

Yes, it’s safe to say that God, Himself, is erotic to me. It started when I was a little girl.  He was all I had, really. I knew I had “real” parents out in the world somewhere, and I missed them terribly. Throughout my whole childhood.  And in their absence, the feeling I clung to instead was God.  He became everything to me, and, to my mind, everything I felt or thought about was just naturally part of Him.

Anyway. I digress.

Last evening was just beautiful. While I was working on that new teaching material on my guitar, and marveling at how ethereal those new Black Diamond strings sounded, it made me think of Tom Petty’s song, “Dreamville,” and I got sort of dreamy myself.

I eventually put the guitar down and called it a night, even though it was still light out. It’s at that point in the year where it stays light out now until about 9:30pm. I laid across my bed, stared out at those empty streets that are so oddly filled – to overflowing – with life. And I streamed “Dreamville” repeatedly until, yes, long after dark.

As I was listening, it occurred to me that it was the last time Tom Petty had that “young Tom Petty” quality to his voice. Even though he was already 52 when he wrote that song, and on the rest of the songs on that album (The Last DJ) he has his older Tom Petty voice. For some reason, his youth is captured once again in that specific song. And it never was again.  I’m guessing it’s because the song is such an exquisite song about his childhood.

I was just in a trance, you know? For a couple of hours. Life just felt so intensely beautiful: the here & now; whatever’s coming; and all the beauty that came and passed. All of it together – I could feel it in the night outside my window. And I was so grateful for all of it. Even the “Tom Petty being dead now” stuff – I was just grateful last night that he had lived.

Shortly after I fell asleep, the rains came like crazy. Thunder, lightning, the works. It woke me, of course. I had all the windows in the house still wide open and I just didn’t care to get up and close any of them.  It was just too perfect, being alive in all of that “God-stuff.” So wild & joyful.

Okay. It’s sunny here right now, but more rain is heading our way.  (Oh, somebody took the most amazing photo of Nick Cave in the Netherlands last night. They posted it in black & white but it was still incredible. He was just standing there, listening, looking up at a guy who was asking him a question. It was kind of frustrating that I could only view it on my phone, because it was really a stunning shot.)

I’m guessing I’m just  going to hang out all day at the desk and work on Blessed By Light, especially since I now might need to have it done & off by July… But I don’t want to stress.  I just want to let life come, however it chooses to come. Thanks for visiting, gang. Have a terrific Tuesday, wherever it finds you! I love you guys. See ya.

“Dreamville”

Goin’ down to Lillian’s music store
To buy a black diamond string
Gonna wind it up on my guitar
Gonna make that silver sing

Like it was Dreamville
A long time ago
A million miles away
All the trees were green
In Dreamville

I keep wakin’ up all by myself
With a bluejay in my brain
Flappin’ his wings, makin’ me sing
It was just about to rain

Like it was Dreamville
Where I was born
Light years from here
And the air smelled good
In Dreamville

Like it was Dreamville
A long time ago
Light years from here
And the trees were green
In Dreamville

Ridin’ with my mamma
To Glen Springs Pool
The water was cold
My lips were blue
There was rock and roll
Across the dial
When I think of her
It makes me smile

Like it was Dreamville
A long time ago
A million miles away
All the trees were green
In Dreamville, in Dreamville

Yeah it was Dreamville
A long time ago
Light years from here
And the air smelled good
In Dreamville, in Dreamville