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t Chateau Xenia, we harvest no catnip before it's time…
Well, maybe early winter. Or possibly just before Christmas. It's hard to keep track of events when you're doing so much weed.
Somewhere, buried away, are the masses of field notes I took as an anthropologist on the projects I was involved in over the years.
I am being careful and trying hard not to distract myself from the important stuff.
Scent is very personal...
My father was a problematic sort of guy: a former Marine, Merchant Marine engineer, the guy who could fix anything, and bad-tempered. So growing up, I was the navigational fix for the bad temper.
I had zero reasons for resenting the bird that stole my fish. In truth, I hate cleaning fish. I hate fish guts. That derives from filling bait bags for lobster traps one summer when my in-laws thought it would be a great idea for me to work as a stern man for a lobsterman. That …
It wasn't pretty. I woke up with the song echoing in my mind; Too Much Of Nothing.
Here's the thing - does the nose really know, or is it like I say during allergy season, "my noes don't no because I'm all stuffed up." Sniffle Those darn trees are beginning to flower, and I am getting stuffed up, time to squirt something into my noes,
The way to go varies with time and space.
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