promised land

I drove 500 miles from Boise today, making it into Seattle in the p.m. Logging 500 is harder than it used to be, but still doable. The last hundred miles are tough, though.

After seeing Utah, Idaho, Eastern Oregon, and Eastern Washington, I have to say I like where I am. But Seattle's too big and busy, so I wouldn't mind getting somewhere a little more smalltown.

There must be a little smalltown somewhere in which one can have nine bean rows, and a hive for the honey bee.

I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:

No doubt about it. In spite of the droopy weather, this is the promised land. And as Buck Cherry said, "Tell the folks back home this is the promised land calling and the poor boy's on the line." And if Innisfree doesn't work out, maybe I can get a small house in Aberdeen, of clay and wattles made.