Some years the ice-climbing season just vanishes a pile of cash left on a table the POOF gone. I noticed kestrels looking to roost in a flicker nest box I nailed to our utility pole surely raptors fornicating and eating every vole on the property is incompatible with mixed? Better to set said skunk up on the bar the season is toast unless the alpine bug bites, its just no good anymore...
This is good. Seasons have a way of hanging around too long. Already there are unbelievably bright orange Italians slippers in a brown box on the front porch when I get home from Neurology. They are bright, sleek and European (like my car) and hint at long airy boulder poblems on a perfect Colorado day.
After all, there must always be a few of those...
No comments:
Post a Comment