I've been writing poetry about the places where nature meets suburbia. Lately, I've been rooting for nature.
Winter's approaching pretty fast here in Oswego. Although -- I mean -- some days, walking home from work in the afternoon, the sun gets pretty warm still. I am waiting for the trees to just be that explosion of fiery reds, oranges and yellows that I remember. But it seems to be that the weather's been so odd, that the leaves are browning and dying before they even get the chance.
Sometimes I wander around town. Lately, I've just been so exhausted, I couldn't even muster the strength to go around the block to my mentor's shop. There are days when I am so glad that I live here, where there's enough going on so close together that I don't need a car -- that I can mostly walk comfortably to almost anywhere I need to go. Then there are days where I just don't want to be around all this noise. You know what I mean?
I walk down Bridge Street and turn off of it a couple blocks away from my house. I find myself lately craving a walk home where I don't have to hear so many cars racing by me.
I want some time out in the wilderness, where your closest neighbor would be a mile down the road. I want a cozy house without loud music playing a couple floors above me. A cabin in the woods, perfect for the writing life. Just the kind of quiet a city certainly lacks -- and the suburbs are no better. I work a "normal" job, or two -- and an odd apprenticeship-job on the side, to boot. All to pay the bills and keep a roof over my head and under my upstairs neighbors' feet and stereos. I'm not complaining in the sense that I hate what I have. I love it. I feel so lucky to be able to be here now. It's just kind of loud. I feel out of place sometimes. Like -- circle the thing in this group that doesn't belong -- type out-of-place. Like I really do belong in the woods somewhere, writing away.
I don't know if it is the weather that's sparked this sort of emotion in me, or the cars, or the connectivity we all have to our technology -- I have no idea. I do know that I wish for some times closer to nature than to the "real world." Is it escapism? Probably. But hey. Anyone who wants to escape away from the bustle of modern living -- you're a-okay with me. You and I both belong in the settings of fantasy novels.