When I was in the fifth grade, I had to learn and recite a poem that went, “Don’t shirk your work for the sake of a dream, a fish in the dish is worth two in the stream.” This was in a Catholic reader. We all had to learn it and then get up and recite it. I was on the far side of the room, so twenty or so other students went before me.

I didn’t realize the import of having to memorize this particular poem until many years later. This was total indoctrination. Total. Work hard, don’t dream because if you do the latter, you will end up as a bum on the streets.

I thought when I figured this out that I should avoid fishing for I would undoubtedly take a nap and later go hungry.

Every time Pete goes fishing, I think about the above. Tonight he came home with 25 or so fish in the cooler. Now Pete is not one to ever shirk work or stop and dream. He’s not at all a dreamer. He gets things done. And today he got enough fish to last us all winter.

We’ll have fish and vegetables and potatoes and wood in the woodshed. I suspect that wood in the woodshed is next. If we don’t get wood, we’ll have to burn books. A scary thought, as scary as the thought of having to eat our chickens (Ruth, Bader, and Ginsberg) and or our goats (Sassy and Lilac). The horses, I’m not going there.

We will be better off than most.

Today the woman who has everything rode her two horses, Hrimmi in the morning and Tyra in the afternoon. There was a window of time, part of a day, conducive to this. The sun was shining in the morning and evening. It rained late afternoon but then the sun came out.

I’m determined to keep riding and maintain the connection (though admittedly now tenuous) with my horses. Tonight, after riding Tyra, I took her for a walk around the loop.

It’s pretty pathetic, my deliberating about walking a mile around the loop because I fear being in pain. I used to be a long distance runner – I’d then deliberate about running 16 miles when we lived in the Butte. It pains me, literally and figuratively, to do less. But in the back of my mind, still, I’m thinking, Mt. Marathon.

Going, going, gone, the thought, this September, of going to Iceland and sheep herding. I’d still consider this if I had an understanding travel partner. Maybe next year. A good thought that I’ll keep to myself.

I did go to the hotel today. I cleaned, sorted, and categorized the incoming books, now a steady stream that never seems to end. I got four more boxes of books ready to send to villages. I feel like I’m slacking, I’m not doing as much as I was previously.

So I’m both a dreamer (an ideas person) and a do-er. A good combination.

Next: 208. 8/1/24: Goodbye July