Tropical Depression: Summer in Snail Country
It's summer in snail country and I've got field work.
Glorious field work.
My season as a desk jockey is over, replaced by days that start at dawn and end at sunset. Sleep is restorative; the spirit is buoyed by sunshine, tradewinds and windward/mauka showers.
I like eating my lunch with dirty hands, sitting on a rotting log at the summit of a mountain in the intermittent rain.
I like three days later when the bruises start to show and the scabs start to flake off.
I like not checking my e-mail like a crack head.
I like my new GPS unit.
I like working with that guy in the camo pants.
No, the other one.
