April 23: In a Forest, Apology, Perfect Place

I forgot my biography of E. B. White in my office at the university, so we're going to have to skip White Wednesday this evening.  Sorry.  I've been out of sorts all day long.  Woke up this morning having a low blood sugar.  Forgot to shave before I left for work.  Worked all day looking like Lon Chaney Jr. during a full moon.  Gave my students a final exam.  Left the E. B. White biography at the college.

So, here we are.  I have a quote from Charlotte's Web to share:

"In a forest looking for beechnuts and truffles and delectable roots, pushing leaves aside with my wonderful strong nose, searching and sniffing along the ground, smelling, smelling, smelling . . ."

Wilbur is describing his perfect place.  It's pretty simple.  In the forest, rooting for things to eat.  I guess, for a pig, that's as close to paradise as you can get.  I want to be a pig in paradise, for just a few moments.  I want to be in my perfect place.

For me, that would be at home on a hot July day.  I would go for a long run and feel great afterward.  Then, I would lie on the floor, the ceiling fan tearing the air above me.  I'd drink a big cup of ice water and just sweat.  Let the endorphins do their work.  Make me feel wonderful.  Invincible.  Free.

Paradise is all about freedom.  Wilbur is free in that forest to do what he wants.  I am free on that summer day to run and sweat.  Everybody should have that freedom, where all worries and fears melt away, and there's just beechnuts or the open road underfoot.  Everybody deserves that.

Saint Marty wishes all readers of this post a little paradise in their lives.

Root around and find some truffles