That was a lovely Perfect Circle line I want to think (or was it Tool? maybe Tool) repeating with some light percussion and strings. It comes to mind today.
The snow is melted, leaving the hills yellow and brown. Dark clouds have come in with the wind. Standing out in the wind, one is swayed back and forth as one watches the swaying grass, which results in an effect in which one feels one is underwater.
Listening, there is the roar of the wind and the rustling grass and brush. A creaking gate. Some cows graze on the hill in the distance. Every once in a while a cow moan drifts up the hill. Sometimes the caw of a crow, or the bleat of a goat. At one time deer were fucking: they make strange bleating and yelping noises when they do so.
A series of dull percussion: gunshots. It is still hunting season. Stories of a group of hunters surrounding a herd of elk and massacring them make me sad and angry. Hunters shooting from their cars, that sort of thing. There are hefty fines for such things. So what then is hunting? What is the motivation for such an act? There's people who just need food sure. But acts like that? Senseless cruelty.
Best not to dwell on such things. Watch the weather.
