The sun is shining. The skies are a gorgeous blue. The clouds are carefree and fast moving. It’s 19c/65f out. The winds are travelling in from snow-country. The breeze is brisk.
I’m hiding in my shed, cooking motorcycle parts. Am to the point with the 62 project where I can start thinking about paint and polish and reassembly.
As the winds gust and blow, the shed rattles and bangs. The wind chimes sing and dance in the breezes. They are happy. The delicate chiming in the background, but persistent at times. Like childish laughter.
It is a weird, wonderful world we abide within. The speed with which we see, and accept changes, is astounding. For the duration of my life, and the life of my parents’, and perhaps my grandparents’, change has been the norm. So many facets there-in, within The Change. Before “the change” was what? Change at a slower pace?
More later
The Native Iowan 
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