Too humorless to accept a compliment sincerely given?  No problem, with an Obscenity in the White House [just my opinion; yours may vary, particularly if you already Love a Parade even before it becomes treasonable not to] just torpedo that famous artist/creep in the wheelchair and carry on, righteously. It’s a Country of Morals, after all, not morels.

Not ever the less, we returned to California, I with high hopes that the Tundra would finally – finally! – get sorted out by the New Mechanic so while awaiting walked the foggy shore, got a haircut and saw those hopes dashed when the NM, stymied,

recommended an “electrical specialist” in far-off Vallejo.

Replacing the driver’s side sensor as Bill’d suggested would maybe have worked but the new guy’s computer told him it was everything but, so after another appointment over a week out

was made for my truck I took Linda’s to Fairfield for an hour and a half consult about the upcoming extractions, then stopped at Heather Glen for a rudimentary lunch with Aggie before our dry and uneventful crossing of the Sierra on a dry and uneventful February afternoon

[unless one factors in the utter lack of precipitation] and so to Wall Spring,

waters flowing, beautiful springlike weather except…ulp…it ain’t anywhere near springtime yet.

[1984]

Which the trees know, though

without the snow it did make good timing for the Annual Burn

which happened Sunday, the ground so saturate it steamed.

Well, good that’s safely over for another…dunno how many more years I’ll be up for doing it.

etc.