An e-mail from Ellen, my farm roomie.
I wave to this guy almost every day (It will make sense if you listen to the segment. So do it! Listen.)

Subject: every once in a while
Date: May 30, 2007

something really unbelievable happens in my life.

last night, after being away from north carolina for a week, i returned home and caught the last act of "the story" on npr. dick gordon, the host, was interviewing a woman who was talking about a simple daily encounter she had with a man on her route to work through rural north carolina. i was charmed and intrigued. it is such a beautifully told story, and it moved me even further when they suddenly named my road and i realized i was listening to a story about my own neighbor ricky, right across the road from me and my goats, in sort of the middle of nowhere.

i've often said that sometimes you need to know that something is art by simply putting a frame around it. this isn't an original observation. but it remains true; sometimes you just need a new perch from which to look at your life. sometimes you need to hear from a perfect stranger, over air waves shared by thousands of others, just how perfect your own neighbor is.

this is a story about a man that simply likes to wave. it's about fifteen minutes long. i encourage you to find the time:

- go to http://thestory.org/archive/
- scroll down to "TO HAVE A FRIEND" (tuesday, may 29), then click "Listen Here".
- the second story in this segment, at exactly 32 minutes in, is the lovely story i get to see each and every morning.

Blake, in my (and Barb's) heart, you win.

I'm in NYC for a few days.

I went shopping on 5th avenue, saw a Broadway Show (Wicked) and complained about a cupcake costing four dollars.

Oh dear. I've become a tourist.

The stairway to heaven. I mean the shoe department at Bloomies.

To appease JR:

Check Mate.

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls.

Yesterday, I moved onto "The Farm" with friend Ellen.

I pull into the driveway and the goats and chickens run up and greet me.
There is a hammock in the screened in porch.
It is quiet, and private and there are lots of trails in the back, including one that connects with the American Tobacco Trail.

I'm not exactly sure where I am though. One search engine says "Apex" the other "Cary" and another "Durham." We're on the edge of everything, I guess.

While I am living with Ellen, I have yet to see her as she is in New York now and travels frequently. Invisible roommate.

So, here's what I did not love.

My first night I was alone. I am used to apartments. If I am in a freestanding house, it is always with other people. I think this is the first time I have been alone in a freestanding house by myself with no other houses or lights in sight and I admit, I was a little scared. Lots of noises. I swear I heard a wheelbarrow and had this image of my body cut into a million pieces in the wheelbarrow.

Last Halloween, some friends of mine talked about going over to Ellen's farm and trying to scare her. We didn't. But it would not have been hard to spook someone in this environment.

I e-mailed Ellen. She told me where she keeps the hammer. I slept with it.