4/5/26 5:20 42F (5.5C) Clear and calm and filled with birdsong.
The owls are calling to each other. Frogs are croaking.
The waning moon still looks full as it slides towards the west ridge.
I think Scott has gone home. The lodge flickers with the light of a dying fire.
My mistake. I hear movement. He must be sleeping in.
After a long soak, Scott and I enjoyed a survivor’s breakfast with Robert and Amy.
















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