The first daylight meet-up of the season means that winter is over even if saying so jinxes you.
By now, the probability of lowland snow approaches zero and the moon responds with its best Cheshire grin. A perfect scoop of cloud reveals springtime just to the west.
tehJobies advises an ill-advised route through the Market and off we go.
One never tires of blinkies through Myrtle Edwards nor of Featherhead flying over hill and dale nor of bombing through the bridge cage to Magnolia.
It turns out the Dravus QFC is a convenience store, which really seems apt.
Parking lots look the same even to those who know where they’re going; second time’s a charm, though.
To be towards the rear and see beams of light pour out over the dunes is more than enough. To arrive in one piece all you could ask.
Our hunter-gatherer ancestors would have been proud of the fire-making teamwork. They would have envied paper but emulated shavings.
Old ways are the new thing.
Cherry wood makes for a cheery little blaze, especially when the atmosphere’s lungs breathe so deeply.
The rain shadow shortens a bit as the fuel is consumed; pretty soon you’re following Fred to the apparent delight of frogs everywhere.
Some places in town masquerade as their crosstown analogues; now that’s success! With a swell bomb downhill, to boot!
Where you think that you’re headed is not where you’re going but when everyone arrives that’s where you are.
And afterwards, you make it home with all your pieces intact.
There’s a model for an evening of cycling, one that never fails. With a fire in the center, it’s hard to go wrong. And when you do it en masse it’s guaranteed to amuse.
Behaviorists say that happiness is nothing more than behaviors that communicate happiness; if that includes communicating with yourself I agree.
Our internal states are both inscrutable and incorrigible; on nights like this, the external ones, too.
By now, the probability of lowland snow approaches zero and the moon responds with its best Cheshire grin. A perfect scoop of cloud reveals springtime just to the west.
tehJobies advises an ill-advised route through the Market and off we go.
One never tires of blinkies through Myrtle Edwards nor of Featherhead flying over hill and dale nor of bombing through the bridge cage to Magnolia.
It turns out the Dravus QFC is a convenience store, which really seems apt.
Parking lots look the same even to those who know where they’re going; second time’s a charm, though.
To be towards the rear and see beams of light pour out over the dunes is more than enough. To arrive in one piece all you could ask.
Our hunter-gatherer ancestors would have been proud of the fire-making teamwork. They would have envied paper but emulated shavings.
Old ways are the new thing.
Cherry wood makes for a cheery little blaze, especially when the atmosphere’s lungs breathe so deeply.
The rain shadow shortens a bit as the fuel is consumed; pretty soon you’re following Fred to the apparent delight of frogs everywhere.
Some places in town masquerade as their crosstown analogues; now that’s success! With a swell bomb downhill, to boot!
Where you think that you’re headed is not where you’re going but when everyone arrives that’s where you are.
And afterwards, you make it home with all your pieces intact.
There’s a model for an evening of cycling, one that never fails. With a fire in the center, it’s hard to go wrong. And when you do it en masse it’s guaranteed to amuse.
Behaviorists say that happiness is nothing more than behaviors that communicate happiness; if that includes communicating with yourself I agree.
Our internal states are both inscrutable and incorrigible; on nights like this, the external ones, too.
No comments:
Post a Comment