The sky is such a nice blue color, and the air is cool and fresh. What a relaxing change from all the heat and misery of the past few hot weeks. As I jump up into the air, enjoying the feeling of freedom, as the nice summer breeze blows by.

The stream is brown with dirt. Yet it shines so bright, as the evening sun reflects off it. The grass is green, the hay in the field grows, and will feed us tommorow. The sun is a bright yellow ball, without a care in the world.

Nature Knows No Regulation

Being in nature, is what life and freedom is about. The wind knows no regulation, it simply blows. It hates nor loves nobody. It just brings an occasional force, that is sometimes tapped to do good, sometimes tapped to do evil.

Just south of this field is a camp, where it looks like a bunch of confederates are camping out. Along with the horses. I just ignore them, they are probably more trouble then they are worth. They have the right to live their lives the way they want to.

I could jump in the stream, and break it's stillness. Turn it cloudy. But I won't. It's grey rocks will stay that way, and it's flat rock will remain flat and dry.

The sign to my right, says 'Posted: Public Water Supply'. I dare travel in that area, it's not like they really give a darn if I visted there or not. It's wooded, with all kinds of Pine trees, and some undergrowth. The stream peacefully continues through that area.

If This is America...

A light southernly breeze brings the light smell of horses across the field, from the confederate camp, where they stay. It keeps on growing it seems, they always seem to be improving on there land. They make pots, they dig and put fence posts, to keep their goats and horses in.

If this isn't America, I don't know what it is--It's a place where the sky is blue, and the tree line is green. Clouds dot the skys, but only very few are viewable. I guess there just is no demand, we got our rain last night. Where men are free, with just the limits of nature, and few of the laws of government.

Darkness and Death of A Day

It's getting darker, the bugs are out in full force. The party lights are on, but there will be no party. There is a black dog running around, as if she was looking for something. Hopefully the bats will be out soon in force, eating those pesky bugs.

I guess everything has a purpose. Including those ever so annonying flies. Actually, I do know their purpose—it's to make us humans misrible. Blame it on evolution, blame it on creationism, or just blame it on the bugs. Maybe we need more toxins in the air to kill them, I don't know.

The dog has a beach ball, that just went pop. I guess he kiled that ball well. Oh well, what the hell can you do about that? The dog hears a plane, the ears perk up, and then darts after the ball again.

Life is good, life is bad, I just wish the dog had not killed the ball. Bu what can you do? Die? That sure ain't pretty. Especially with all the pesky regulations the have today. Try to die in peace, like that's possible. It's not like that cow bone found on the side of Bennett Hill.