Pinheadlights

On the road again, though it hadn't occurred to me to bring that birdlike anthem from Canned Heat. Instead I listened to a mix, everything from Mozart's Requiem to Lotte Lenya, Armstrong, Roxy Music, and the usual from Talking Heads, Weather Report, Bowie... Great nostalgic tsunamis washing over me, shifting and sliding like the light on the landscape. This time I was heading to Westport to see a writer friend, Sean, and his wife Jessica, who live on the rim of a little valley outside the town. I noticed many flooded fields on the way, and when I arrived I saw that the floor of the valley was also waterlogged. A lovely welcome and good smells greeted me; Jessica had made a delicious chowder. Later I tried to sleep as wind and rain wrapped and rewrapped the house, making a gift of restlessness and bad dreams.