W.I.P. @ Mad Creek

There are few better ways to shake out the mud season emo-phase than honest work. Building a solid FOUNDATION is the modus operandi. Without a solid foundation, the integrity of all future endeavors is compromised. A big thank you to Mikey for the endorsement. BLS

Eye candy:

no photoshop. no color. no crop. Just sharing my eye candy.

season of emotions

though i had an exceptional time during my visit to wisconsin with family and old friends playing cornhole and bocci ball, drinking beers and other sorts of tasty beverages, it seems as though i am drug into a state of sorrow and bliss, as well as those around me. i enjoy seeing my folks overjoyed upon my return and i hate to see them cry everytime i leave. it kills me to see. now i fly 10,000 feet above their heads, and the heads of good friends that i will not see for some time. i have a tear in my eye and happiness in my heart as i head off toward the next adventure.

At first light

The sun peeked over the mountain and pierced through my shabby yet very adequate hut. The walls, laking any real structure, hardly prevent light from the east entering at its leisure. I rise and stretch before I exit my mansion to make my morning coffee in a moss covered lawn. The coals still smouldering from the nights fire are perfect for my morning boil. As the water heats over the coals, I prep a days worth of wood in the climbing sun. No need to stockpile more than that. The routine of it is satisfying enough. As each piece splits from the cool steel of the ax, the water gets warmer and the fire begs for fuel. The warmth of the sun begins to bead sweat on my brow and the stack of lumber seems to be suitable now. I stoke the coals once more as I strain my coffee from the over used pot. The pot that has persevered along this trail the same as I have. The ol' woman tinker in Phippsburg told me it was the sturdiest pot she had owned and didn't want to part with it, but I seemed trustworthy enough. Dollar fifty she announced. I'll give you two, I fired back. The mountain knows no currency and change in my pocket will only get lost without a compass. She seemed even more satisfied. Finally enjoying that first morning sip, I look over my shoulder back through the valley towards her and toast my crude nectar in her honor.