Mountain Laurel
Mountain Laurel near New Paltz, NY. I love the shape of the buds before they burst open. The individuals I’ve seen have varied from pink to white.

Like a mountain lion stalking a helpless deer my 64th birthday caught me unawares. That’s nothing new for me, mind you. As a relatively reclusive sort they tend to come and go without much notice.

The difference this year–and I suppose I should say last year as well because this is the second birthday running that I’ve celebrated on the road–was that when I woke up in the morning not only did I not realize what day it was, I also didn’t know where the hell I was! I don’t think it was because of my aging gray matter as much as it was due to the fact that I’ve been living on the road, changing location from day to day. Hey! It’s hard to keep track! Now, where was I?… oh yeah…


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