I took Barbie’s advice and headed to town today. It wasn’t so much that I needed any supplies, but I felt it wouldn’t be a bad idea to see something a little normal – something that fit with the world I had come from.
I know in my heart that there is nothing more natural than nature, but sometimes I feel like all this fresh air makes me a little insane. The cloistering effect of all the snow these past few weeks, the strangeness of the nights and the obvious isolation of the farm cottage is so different from what I’ve known my whole life.
I drive my second hand truck down the twisting driveway of my home and take the country road to the main line right into the small town – which is really just a few shops – grocery, hardware, feed and seed – a post office and a few other municipal services.
It’s about a forty minute drive and I play mixed cassette tapes from my high school years on the ancient tape player and sing along.
The lot for the little grocery store was fully packed, so I pull the truck up to the curb in front of the post office and walk over.
The clerk is behind the register, ringing folks through and having little chats with each one. I certainly don’t want to waste her time so I take a brief stroll through the store and grab a bag of apples, a block of cheese and some butter… I guess I’m planning to make a pie or a strudel or something.
I get in line and when I’m finally in front of the clerk, Bess is the name Barbie had given me and I confirm that with a quick glance to her name tag.
“Hey stranger,” she greets me with a smile. “How are you keeping out in that old cottage?”
“I’m doing well,” I tell her and place my items on the counter. “How are you?”
“The same as always, but I was hoping to see you soon.” She started ringing in my items. “I sent someone down to check your river bend and you’re good to be in that area – so you can use the water, wade out in the nicer weather or just spend time there if you want.”
“Thanks,” I said and pulled out my wallet. “Can I ask what was being checked for? It doesn’t sound like the water was ever unsafe to use or anything.”
“Let’s say wild animals or other dangers,” She responded taking my money and counting out change.
“Let’s say?”
“Yep,” She loaded my items into a paper bag and hefted it over the counter into my arms. “No more bottled water for you now – you can use that fresh good river water going forward.”
“To drink?”
“Or, wash or whatever.”
“Can I stick to my well water?” I asked, cocking my groceries up on my hip.
“You can do what you like, but a cup of river water on the full moon is a local tradition that keeps us all well and healthy.”
Then she waved the next customer over and I was dismissed.
I went home and made a pie.
That night I dreamed of the river.