When the color green predominates within the irrigated walls of a western town, it must really, finally be spring.
Odd, or ironic, that we most often choose to recreate outside those artificial boundaries, then flee back to the relative safety to spend our nights?
Hmmm. Maybe we just don't see a choice.
Oops, but with a happy ending.
Scoping and scouting. Less obvious but more to the point: Appreciating the fingers of green that reach into the hills.
"God, why does she have to keep calling me Moobs?"
Because that's your name. Deal.
Poking around in our neighbors' backyard.
Sssssaaaaaaayyyyyy--that's an odd smelling juniper...
Remembering how to rock-monkey:
Spring break? Nope, spring bummer. Or, when rock monkeying goes sideways.
The big picture.
Among other notable recent anniversaries, Fang turned 11 last week. And there was much rejoicing!
Thanks for checkin' in.
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Thread: Spring, actually.
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