When I walk up on the hillside, away from the road and driveways, I call it “tromping.” It’s not much like walking. The ground is steep and there are precarious holes, fallen logs, thick, damp underbrush that never dries out. It’s more like a constantly controlled fall than a walk.
I had this idea that I could find some berries up in there.
There were a few, but in fact most of the berries seem to be along the road. Probably the opening in the underbrush created by the road gives the berries a place to thrive.
I found just a few handfuls of berries, despite a full circumnavigation of lot 73.
[daily log: walking, 1km; tromping, 700m]
Day: July 21, 2020
Caveat: Art #86
It would be stretching the definition to call this art. But what else is it? When I was an elementary-school-aged kid, I liked drawing mazes. I haven’t run across any until this one. It’s incomplete. I’d been using these scraps of large billboard paper with fragments of lettering as a kind of background for my mazes. I’m guessing this is from around 1974.
Caveat: Poem #1451 “The rainforest’s expectation”
ㅁ The clouds churn, asleep. It's always about to rain. The slugs slide with joy.
– a pseudo haiku.