A harmonica in my lungs

There is a song playing right now, that is barely longer than 2 minutes and quiet enough to play in the most somber of places. It has a harmonica in it. And that harmonica echoes out of my lungs and heart and other organs.

Today (technically yesterday, I haven't gone to bed yet, so it is the same day) I walked around the desert next to my house. The same desert from these posts. I went wood gathering. I didn't have any exact ideas for the type of wood I wanted, I just knew I needed enough to make a flower. I have the day off from burrito manufacturing, so I figured I could do something nice for someone, make some art, and start regaining some of those hands on skills we seem to be using. (I didn't notice we were loosing are ability to work with our hands, but Bill brought it up, and he is a smart guy, and he is right. He is going to learn how to weld, count me excited.) After my gathering I went to the hardware store for nails and spray paint. Then I took pizza to Whit. Awww, lunch date. After borrowing a saw from him I went to work. Here are the before, in process and after. Crystal might be mad at me for spray painting the grass. She might not.