6:46 p.m. It's spring and our lives shift back to the outdoors. Suddenly the bar fork, for so many months the warm refuge from the bone-biting cold, is empty in it's shadows and we eat our black bean gumbo outside in the sun. I spent the day making vague attempts at doing psychology out on the lawn - as of dinner time I'm sunburned and still have my psych report to do. It's spring and the river becomes a much more tactile part of existence. Every spring it draws me like a magnet, as soon as it's even close to warm enough to play in I'm there. Yesterday Ces and I went down to the river in Glenwood and built a fire for very small boy scouts in a crack in a rock. I love her so much.
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