keyshape

The lady who sold smoked trout and apitherapy out of her backyard, the 3-foot fresh garlic stalks picked for us straight out of the ground, the hundreds of dead crickets all over the rocks on the Esopus River.  No we did not go tubing, when we saw the line and the dozens of teenagers I realized I was potentially infringing on some Sacred Teenaged Ground.  We ate pancakes instead.  I miss the sound of rain drops hitting a thousand leaves all over the forest, and the smell of Cedar all around me.  The last picture makes me smile because it reminds me of waking up and seeing clouds whizzing overhead, and me pretending that the cabin was moving.