I’ve been told that River House is really ‘out there’, meaning that it is remote, away. I would say that the sounds of tanker trucks going to and from the refinery say otherwise. As would my ability to send this post to my blog, or the ability to get to work in 20 minutes or so.
My biggest ‘away’ is posting to this blog, rather than on Facebook.
In the prairie, at the turn of the century, there was a famous, yet unknown woman poet, who tied passages of immense beauty and longing to tumbleweeds, and anonymously let them loose. She was never found, marooned in a house on the Plains.
This is my message, tied with a finer thread, on the sea called an Internet. Wherever the wind may blow.
River House 