Yeah, I, too get tired of 
the classified ad themes 
and buying and selling   
here (see previous articles 
about this group).  I resolved
to think some general thoughts 
this evening about the Triangle 
and post them post haste.  
    
And so:                                                                     

Night

ast night was one of those absolutely fabulous nights which has the effect of reminding me why I have selected this of all possible places to call home. The air was almost heavy with haze. I drove out to Saxapahaw and walked around the mill houses and the old mill and talked with some folks I met out for a stroll. I appreciate the form and history of the old mill houses in Saxapahaw. Houses are history.

Stars re-appear after the
headlights fade and some
of the chirping is so loud I
can hear it through my open window...

The trip to this mill village is sweetened because there's also some great folk art about half-way down the road connecting with 54, on the left, as you head into town. These wonderful iconic figures, large, artful in their crude forms, like something you might see in those attempts at slice of life photos in the Independent. This house housing the icons is so close to the road they must hear even the sounds of bicyclists and the down-shifts they must make after coming up that hill. Back in the town, the houses are now owned by a realtor. You also get a plot of farm land in the community garden (huge) as an option. It was dark on the drive back.

tars re-appear after the headlights fade and some of the chirping is so loud I can hear it through my open window: wind loudly complaining and asking why something like my car must move so fast on such a still night. I like the feel of the air in summer on the open road. I don't have air-conditioning. It's always seemed wrong to me to have air-conditioning in a car. It's unnatural or something. But, then again, growing up in Winston-Salem, my family home didn't have air-conditioning. They still don't. I've come to Chapel Hill and become soft. Suddenly, the chirping makes me think of catching light'n bugs in a jar and the eerie glow their bottoms made as they died. They would glow for hours after they stopped moving. I guess catching light'n bugs is about the cruelest thing I've ever done.

Back home, the street lamps in my development hide the stars and almost the moon. Muffled in the distance I still hear the chirping. The car creaks and my neighbor's cat comes to say "hello".

    
Keith Weston  http://www.io.com/~jkweston