July 21, 2014

Sang in church after long absence. Showed Will the plants at 62, so he can decide what to keep, what t let go of. The mulberry is a golden conflagration. The paw-paws stand way above my head. I wish I could think of a way to get them here. My guts relax at this becoming solid after months of speculation. The exchange is low on profitability but so high on convenience that one is overjoyed to let it go. Loaded up on all the mulch I could need for a foreseeable future. Will found a little journal I had left behind– one bought me by Jay and Anise, in which I chronicle my New Orleans sojourn long ago. My keel is firm beneath me now that I have a writing project.