Trail of the Wild Fell

 

Last Dance
Big guy in white had good rhythm

    S and I entered the young forest by the Trail of the Wild Fell and came out hours later on Flying Squirrel sort of like and episode of Rocky and Bullwinkle. Those woods had been forgotten by me after such a long absence. There were flashbacks even to ancient days making my living somewhere back in there between the clear-cut and the old forest making wood out of blowdowns and the odd old growth log beautifully preserved but an inconvenient distance that needed a lot of heavy packing.

    S was feeling poorly, but D romped and sniffed sufficiently for all of us.

    I made some calls that may produce a wheel for the new ride and some medication for the urination. I also whopped up a pot of pasta fazool that was better than usual.

    Last we went to the last Bayview dance, but when D, already anxious from the noisy churn of the event, had a can of IPA spilled on his back, we had to take him home.

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