Oriental

So I write again. Here at the base of Turkey mountain I am home. Long last. The wood stove heats and my son and I just ate a 20 inch trout I found under a covered bridge by the house. And the Amish. All around they confirm but do not really satisfy my curiosity of the simple and plain life.

Many unpleasant mails from my distant non wife. Quiet. In the Appalachians we have quiet. Maybe beyond the island. I hope to make a study of this culture.

Joey my son was here today. Only 30 miles north of Harrisburg but a different world. I need time to learn this place and my son, my daughter.

The fact that I caught an amazing trout less than a mile away is telling. The little rural bar on the hill seems sad after the step dancing of my island life. I will wait.

The mountains here abound with game. And soon the warmth will return and I shall fish the streams of youth-and new places.

My dads guns now adorn the wall. Soon to be used again.