2/15/10

I don't hear music often. I don't hear it secondhand, drifting from cars or hallways and I am not injected with it by high sterile speakers. But in the evenings I sometimes listen to a song or two through headphones when I walk beneath the stars. And all of that energy, that grooviness and that swaying strong beats sleeping inside of me, wake up and remind me what I love. And they remind me not to love in excess.

The most memorable moment of today's picking was reaping an orange that was big enough to only sit clumsily in my two palms together. It was wide and wrinkled like a granddaddy orange let grow forever, and it must have been four pounds.