i’ve got a jar of lone star

Everyone has different ways of coping with homesickness. Some people write about it, others embrace it.. but me? I carry a jar of dirt with me, yup — thats right. Texas dirt. Texas is the first place away from Denmark that i’ve ever felt at home or like i could stay there for the rest of my life; as a drifter thats saying a whole lot. I haven’t opened the jar since we left almost three years ago, the ground inside is from our little piece of land on the outskirts of town, the leaf was the first that fell and the empty bullet well thats another story.  My little jar of Lone Star sits by my bedside and comforts me when the days get too long. I think back to that brick house where the coyotes used to gather like fruit flies, where i ended up showering with a lizard and an angry scorpion consistently hid in my boots.

When night fell over Gazebo street our backyard became a fair ground of playing stars dancing for the limelight. We’d stand and watch them roll, shoot and shine for hours whilst the mosquitoes bled us dry. It was worth every minute.
I remember one evening when summer was turning to autumn. We slept with the window open. Around 4.30am i heard a high pitched eerie howl as beautiful as ever it could be. Outside my window was a lone coyote, right outside. I didn’t dare look but i could smell her breathing and i sure as hell could hear her singing. The wind was almost cool and soothing — rare for South East Texas.  In the distance a whole band of coy dogs began to yip and yawh, so my friend of the night disappeared into the brush. I will never forget that early morning, and though i was too freaked out to look through the dark for her, it is one of my fondest memories. I have a soft spot for coyotes and wolves, for farmers and ranchers they’re little devils, but to me they’re like me. Drifting from place to place and part of the pack.
My pack amounts to three, and thats how it should be.
So there on my bedside table is my comforting jar of dirt that wakes a memory or two.

agiocochook peak

Its the windiest place on earth, so they say. Agiocochook peak, better known as Mount Washington — was my first mountain. I mean i’ve seen them before from a plane, an airport or just passing through high country on a road trip, but i’d never been to the top. I’ve always found solace in being out at sea under full sail, or riding in the back country of Texas on horse back — but there is a peace in the mountains. A peace that spreads from peak to peak. You’re above the world, away from your everyday hustle and bustle — a life drowning in technology, must do’s and boundaries . Mountains are raw and dangerous, but remind us that the world; though it seems tame below, is far from a kept housewife on easy street.

mount washington state park

asd

mount washington
In some areas it looked so desolate and forgotten — like the surface of mars or earth after an apocalyptic catastrophe. I’ve always admired mountains; the peaks and bumps always reminded me of sleeping trolls that were hiding till nightfall. As a kid in Denmark — i grew up wary of the woods because of the trolls. I might be the only one, but i was always safer rather than sorry. And thus far — i haven’t been chewed in half by an angry troll.