Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Forty-Seven
Waiting for sunrise.
Patiently, not-so-patiently waiting to get a Christmas tree.
Still without my morning fire.
Noble Fir, only. 8-9 feet. None of those are here, of course.
Hard not to when you’re right there.
A large tree tied precariously to the roof of the car. You can hear the strain on the green twine. Visions of it spearing the car behind us on the trail.
Only color lights.
Finally, my fire.
The days feel like they are going by too quickly.
When the resistance is this strong, something must change.
