Been listening to a lot of string quartet music. Even writing that phrase — string quartet music — means I am able to sit still more, at least for enough time as it takes to write it. The Brooklyn Rider boys, some with beards and all, slot into the whole artisanal hombres with brains movement, aka Mast Chocolates: serious, able to spend nights alone in a cabin somewhere, pondering how to best rehab the Strad found at a barn sale.
Lee on a hike stops to kill a stick again
My dog, Lee, the original number two dog, meaning after Sophie, she's getting older too. Still trying to grind her teeth into nubs on sticks. Before the one above, she pulled a leg-thick birch trunk out of a wind-shot tangle. Massive shoulders, this one. None of the other dogs do this. She would be in the front of the pack, pulling down the moose.
Ergo the antler collection, coming soon to the shop.