he has been growing like wildfire. his presence is consuming and our love burns for him. the ornery toot that he is!
one grey and drizzly morning, i flung wide our doors and windows, to let the creosote drenched air waft and wander through our house. while puttering around the rooms, i heard a harmonica sigh. it continued breathing its song, until i found the master of the music, look up at me and smile.
oh boy ender, you must always pack a pocket knife and harmonica with you whenever we go camping. it will help our souls survive out there in the wilderness.
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