#wither-storms

this morning, i got started rambling late, in the full heat, and had to stop and drink a gas station lemonade in the shady little pocket cemetery across the street. there's brumbelows and nesbits in there, but no holcombs. i keep hoping i'll wander into the holcomb family plots somewhere around here, but actual research would be cheating at this point

kakek, at the gas station, wouldn't accept the foraged, possibly lightly pilfered, gift card i had for my lemonade, but he did knock a dollar off the price and pocket the cash i gave him

a half dozen glute bridges i did to loosen up a stiff back last week, have somehow resolved the sleep breaking ache in my knees that would only come on in the middle of the night

last night, i dreamt i was living in the old house, empty of most all our belongings, the way i did those last few month before it sold. in the old family room with its tall ceiling, i built an egg shaped shelter that neatly filled the room, and i skinned it with cedar shake, and i lived there until i awoke