Wampum

Yesterday at dusk, after we all went into Rapid to redeem the generator from pawn, and the Wall-Mart for propane and esentials, I went down to the Cheyenne to find Sam. I could hear him being a dinosaur, but I couldn't see him. It was like the old-time story about the invisibile people, around us, heard, but unseen. Behind a sandhill, or under a cut bank, or taken by the underwater people ... close but invisible. At last I saw him, a tiny figure far away, almost on the other side of the Cheyenne, being a dinosaur.

I walked out to a rise, a shoal in non-draught time, and met him as he dino'd down river, crossing the tracks of heron, racoon, deer, and more hand-sized musselshell than I thought existed. With black mud up to his knees, walking, or rather, stalking like he does, he is a heron, such a heron. A kasqu'. Except for the roaring.

N'a wela quig nat kasqu', [My heron has long beautiful legs] (after uskoolsk's song.

At Blue Mounds Sam found a unique place to be a dinosaur for as long as he wanted, and here, during the week of stark yellow crushing heat and shadeless sun, and the past three days of blessing rain, clouds and overcast, and sweater temperatures, the banks of the Cheyenne has been Sam's.

Early this morning a group of turkeys worked the grass adjacent. Grace was able to see what they were doing, hunting for crickets and grasshoppers, by observing their movement, so the story of the crows has paid off. Sam and Jonah were thrilled, Sam by the dinosaur essence of a group of turkeys. Jonah by I don't know what, but he watched, rather than stim or the new wicked funny dollar-at-Wall-Mart video (1920s Felix the Cat).

There are shades of yellow green now where a week ago there were only yellows and browns in the waves and troughs of this motionless, yet moving sea. We've seen a lot of Lakota in ordinary places, the pawn shop, the burger joints, the grocery stores, and above all, at Wall-Mart. Its like being back in Maine, where we see people like us, well, unlike us, but Indians, living ordinary, present lives.

Time to pack. It is Moving Day. The pawn, and the generous gifts from a few readers have bridged the awkwardness. Jonah's put a powwow CD on, so we're moving to the beat of a high classical western drum group. Time to put down the laptop and step into the first world.