Today, not so much with the complete sentences. Forgive me.

Down from the mountains.  Goodbye family I've recently acquired!  Goodbye great aunts and second cousins once removed.  Goodbye raft guides and Penny the cantankerous old mare.  Goodbye elk, mountain rabbits, and magpies.  Goodbye mosquitos.  Goodbye asters, forget-me-nots, and columbines.  Goodbye marsh marigolds, Indian Paintbrushes, and the ever-so-tiny Fairy Candelabras (yes, I did see you; don't be surprised, you're not invisible!).  No more crossing through knee-deep freezing water.  No more red sandstone.  No more energy.

Carrying things piecewise to the airpot.  Giant hat and gift from Grandma Marie.  Thunderstorms on both sides: here and there. Turbulance like I've never before experienced: rollercoaster.  Swollen left knee.  Checking for signs of the sinus headache that pestered me way back at the peaks.  Is it...?  I don't know.  N ran up the mountain: ten miles in three hours, my hero.  Picked me up, my delirious self.  Maybe that's never changed.  Back to the present.

Home again.  Here, there is mess everywhere.  Still not moved in, not all things have places.  Unpacked wonder sprawls over all surfaces like morning glory in the garden which harasses the giant tomatillo plant endlessly.  David and Goliath.  Where was I?  Mail spills out of the mailbox, but not as abundantly as it could.  Package on the doorstep.

The garden is overgrown.  Lettuce going to seed like it needs to reach the sky before nightfall.  Rabbits stayed away, mostly.  Maybe the cayenne oil mix worked.  I ate the only ripe yellow pear tomato standing in the sun sweating.  Gloriously sweet, should have shared.  Fellow gardener passes off tomatillos; he has too many.  That's for dinner tonight, for the pantry is bare.  Heat like a cancer.  Sore shoulders; immunizations.  Pick it up.  Put it away.  Back to normal.  Tighten our belts.

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