I’ve been married for nearly two weeks now. Getting married consumes one. So much planning, and it is a time when the world really leaves you alone. Returning to life is different, and we have been swamped in decisions about insurance, health care, computers, animal decisions,  checking accounts and the many details of life that add up to an existence in America, surely now one of the most complex places in the world in which to live.

Artists and writers and individuals used to be able to live simply and cheaply. No more.

You need a lot of money and technology, paperwork is demanded for everything, and there is this great illusion of customer service – everybody telling you how much your business means to them, which, loosely translated, means “bend over.”

Still, I don’t want to lose sight of my joy in getting married. I am a marrying type. I like to share my life with somebody, and I like to take care of people and have people take care of me. I love loving and being loved. I was frightened about getting married – only a fool wouldn’t be – but I see it is one of the good decisions of my life. I don’t want our affirmation of life to wear off. So we live it everyday. Each day we talk to each other, and listen to each other. We make the rounds of the farm. We show each other our work and art. We walk in the woods. We cook and clean for one another. Marriage takes work and care. I don’t want to get too used to it.