The wives were wrong. Sleeping with a spoon under your pillow will not make it snow. Not even a little bit.. Just fog and whatever hides in fog. Still, pretty magical and I can’t complain. The cold persists and there is a tea bag necropolis growing on the ledge of the sink. Ginger, rooibos, licorice peppermint. Like sunken little tombstones waiting for the great compost heap in the sky. The day started off late with too much to do. I am going to pack and make my way down the mountain for the weekend. Time to hang out in a tiny town, study and wander off with my camera until it’s time to get back to work. It’s so nice to be nowhere.
Day 43: Trashy Plate.. Not so great toaster waffle topped off with leftover hash.. a little kimchi, kale & blueberries for contrast.