HURRICANE, ARTS FESTIVAL AND BUCKET LIST

          I awoke early this morning and when I peeked outside the bedroom window, I was surprised to be greeted with a calmness; a rosy sunrise still below the ridge and an ethereal mist rising silently from amidst the trees.  Not the morning I was expecting but perhaps we're in the eye of the hurricane, which was supposed to hit the state of Maine and possibly New Brunswick.  When I stepped outside, not a breath of wind could be felt; perhaps it's the calm before the storm.
          Quite a lot has occurred this past week at Golden Unicorn Farm; besides resuming building the barn, our first, hope to be annual Golden Unicorn Arts Festival, was a successful hit with the artisans and the general public who came to view their wares.  Although some of the artisans had been reluctant to participate, they, were by the end of the day, very happy to have been a part of our event and vowing to return next year.  Although I was very busy bar-b-quing wieners and sausages during the event, I did manage to discuss my art a little bit with a few people; one of the highlights being able to meet Bob Ellis and his wife (avid sailors) and especially their daughter who lives in Hawaii and delivers sail boats.  She told me that the little sailboat, Dove III that I'd crewed aboard in 1995 during her successful voyage through the Northwest Passage was moored there.  (I've often wondered over the years whatever became of little Dove.)
          As I sit here at the keyboard sipping a hot cup of goldenrod tea, my mind drifts backward to just before I climbed out of bed after being cuddled up to my wife's warm body.  I'd been awake for a short time before realizing I wouldn't fall back to sleep, might as well get the hell up and get on with the day.  However, during that short time of wakefulness, before deciding to get dressed, I lay in bed thinking about some of the places I've lived and some of the people I've lived with over the years.
          I hope whoever reads this bog doesn't think that I'm being cynical and negative (something I've been told quite often, especially when I very seldom have the same views of many other people). When one is nearing the end of their days such as me, I sometimes think about how I would like to have my life end, that is if I'm able to have any say in that particular matter at all.  Just think for a moment, if you were suddenly told that your life will be coming to an end shortly; what would you do (stop reading for a moment and think about having a very short time to live; really give it some honest self-provoking thought)?  If your life started rapidly ebbing away and you could see your eminent demise on the horizon drawing closer with each breath; would you be happy where you're at right now?  I realize we all have regrets but would you regret being where you are in your present life and let's just for the moment say you were; if it were possible, would you do anything about it or just go cest le vie, that's all she wrote?  I know that's kind of a defeatist's attitude but I wouldn't be surprised if there are actual people who think that way; just say to themselves, "What's the point?  Life sucks; I'll just be glad when it's over."
          When I look about me here at the base of Green Mountain, this teeny, itsy-bitsy, wee particle situated on what we call the planet Earth, I think there is no place better than where I'm at now but I don't kid myself either when I have this thought because I've felt this way before about different places on several occasions during my lifetime.  It's not possible to step back in time and situate oneself in the place one most felt at home; the best place on Earth; however, I wonder if it's possible to bring some of what has been, back into the present?  Like me, I imagine dear reader, over the years, you've left many things unsaid or were reluctant to feel but if you were very near to the end of your life right at this moment; are there things you should say and feelings you should express?  Intimacy is tough; so easy to utter a disparaging word, criticize, be sarcastic (apparently I read somewhere the "lowest form of humour") in anger or playfulness; I for one have had to bite my tongue in retaliation or fear of hurting someones feelings I love.  And then again, there have been times when my silver tongue, honed as sharp and deadly as a Samurai sword, I've taken great pleasure wielding hurtful words with a vengeance  Forgive me, I feel as if I'm straying from my topic, like a knight on a glorious steed slaying a terrible dragon to protect a fair damsel and nothing could be further from the truth - how my mind wanders - must be an age thing or the fact that my mind doesn't always exist in the real world, more often in the surreal or a figment of my own fascination.
          Has your bucket as in "kick the bucket" list been emptied or are you still filling it up; wishing you could do this or that or the other thing?  Don't make the list too long, fill the bucket to the brim because when the time comes, which it does unfailing for each and every one of us, there may not be enough time remaining to empty your bucket.  There's not too many wanna-dos or wanna bes in my own personal bucket because I've been a rather selfish man during my life.  It's not that I don't share most of what I attain; it's the closeness, the nearness that I seldom allow complete access.  However, that being said, there are still a few things in my old dented and scratched bucket (life aint always been easy) that I tend on doing, not because I know the date of my impending death but just because I feel it's necessary to help complete my life.