A wander.

A parting gift card burning a hole in my… shelf. I don’t usually have pockets.

Not today, Sunshiney Spike.

It wasn’t quite sprinkling. It wasn’t quite not. It was a rare damp air that isn’t humid here. I wandered.

I’m not sure where my home will be in a few months. Perhaps exactly here. Still. Perhaps wondrously the same.

Still… it may be on the far side of town, or perhaps the far side of the country. (I’ve been talked out of the far side of the world… for now.)

I don’t sit still well. Each day is another urgent drive to another passionate destination. Starting this business today, running that business tomorrow, being enveloped into the wilderness to run feral in the woods the day after that…

It’s all been a bit much.

A bit of a jungle gym, don’t you think?

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Napoleon has conquered a new pot.

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He’s come long way from the 2″ pot twelve years ago. Surviving the odyssey in the back of an old Ford through Death Valley in August. Landing in a sink of steaming hot soapy water (and coming out swinging.) Cats and dogs and freezes and forgetfulness have all taken their pot shots and here he stands. And there stand his progeny in the nearby pots.