O green world, don’t desert me now.
Details in my greening woods.
Every day baxter and I walk, morning and night. And because its the same path, the same time of day, it’s stunning to see the changes as they appear. Froth. Every spring froths over, bubbling up in buds and shoots until suddenly: green. We’re sixty percent of the way there in these woods, although I know if I went to Crowe’s Pasture it’d be closer to 80%. The Cape is weird, one coast to another.
I’m so damn tired tonight. I don’t get uninterrupted sleeps much anymore for various reasons, and Baxter is up and ready for his walk before 6. Work’s crazy busy and my feet ache, and I come home and clean for an hour or more, polishing and scrubbing and rearranging in some sort of penance.
It’s 8. I’ll probably be asleep in an hour. All I really want is to relax.