The giant chevron flights of geese have moved on, the ones that are here now are the ones that have decided that this spot between the two rivers is a decent place to settle down and raise up some young’uns,.
Tonight, they’re definitely in courtship mode, flying low and solo up the river singing out those famous lines by that famous singer : Baby, I want you … so bad! Actually sounds a bit like him.
This was my whole intent with this project, to be more of a participant in the changing of the seasons. This was the first crack in the fragile ice of winter, as far as what my eye can see in my 90 minutes a day in the real world.
I’ve missed some days walking. With Mary gone during the week, sometimes that 90 minutes is a large chunk of our time together. But I’ve stayed roughly consistent with the writing, meaning that there will be a post for each day, but they might not all get posted before midnight.
Tonight I write by my fire pit with a fine blaze from a big Catalpa limb that blew down recently and some rough cedar scraps from the shop. Gonna build it up nice and high, drive that wolf moon back into the hills.