I was walking with Boza and it was 4:30 a.m. at the time I stopped to listen. The sun had peaked above the edge of the earth at around 4 a.m. and we had been walking in chorus with what seemed like millions of birds, all singing for attention from what ever audience that they could gather to listen, why even the Ravens cawed in unison as if to add a spark of difference to the musical ensemble…
A noise presented itself above the rest and it was a sound not unlike an angry bumblebee and as I looked around to see what I did to upset a bumblebee, I realized that the sound drifted from afar. Then it sank in what I was listening to and I started to look upon the horizon and climbed higher up the hills, to allow me to find, that familiar giant bumblebee, the crop duster…
We climbed to near the bell tower, the highest spot around and then I spotted the buzzing noise. It was a white, single engine and single stubby winged plane and then I saw enough of it to recognize that it was an old World War Two fighter craft. A fighter plane that had been converted into a crop duster and that explained why I could hear it so well, that is about 600 or 700 horsepower at tap and the pilot was enjoying life immensely. He would barrel roll at the end of the field, then flip the plane and make another pass…
I knew exactly what fields he was spraying, for Boza and I stop at them when we go to town. I like to let Boza run in open flat lands with very little grass at times…
The crop duster brought back memories of a childhood, memories that had all but died in my mind. For sometimes we allow ourselves to drift from what should be and become attached to what is to be. When we should never allow that to happen…
Then it hit me, I was in heaven and I checked myself to see if I was still alive. After I yelled at myself for pinching my arm so hard it hurt, I then thought about why I felt that way…
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Field so huge that you could die eating all the wild strawberries that will be available…
The blooms are just starting and the total field is over a hundred meters deep and two hundred meters wide. This is the most incredible wild strawberry field I have seen. You can be sure that Boza and I will be keeping an eye on this field and getting some wild strawberries to eat…
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Daily window dressing…
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Oh and why is it heaven?
Because it (Russia) and Boza and I are free!
Free to chose, free to live, free to walk, free to create, free to become, free to be free. No nanny state trying to save you from yourself…
Post by Kyle Keeton
Windows to Russia…