5/21/26 5:15 45F (7.2C) Calm, clear, dry.
The sun has yet to crest the ridge. The sky is clear. No wind stirs the trees.
The canyon is a palette of muted greens and blue.
Riotous birdsong fills the air. The rooster vocally protests his confinement.
My tea is warm and bitter. Dark rivulets track the outside of my white, porcelain mug.
Once I have finished my soak, I will dress and spend the day loading the truck.
By this time tomorrow I will be on my way to Rendezvous.











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