It's true what they say-- you just don't know what you got til it's gone.
There I was, with the very salt of the earth- all this goodness at my fingertips.
And then I made that long drive home...
To that oversized dumpster-esque beast in my driveway...
And the impossible thousands of concrete stones in my cellar.
I ached with the memory of your furry, bacony goodness.
The way you grinned at me.
All the mini excursions to examine Fisher's crab trap.... the school of baby fishies...the new old bicycle coasting down the valley hill.
It's all gone now and I alone am afronted by the impossibility of emptying a mammoth sandbox grain by concretey grain.
How I long for the days of spacious grass sitting rooms ,a cozy boler for six, ice clinking in my glass, and time enough to commiserate until dawn.
Tucker, I love you.
Your people are good.
All the thoughts of your brownness will sustain me through the torturous days that await me here
below the earth.