Morning Walk Report: The dogs, exhausted by the morning’s Toast Incident, were fairly well-behaved. Unseasonably warm, but very few bees, until...

…the morning run. So many bees. So many.

I believe they were hitching rides, since I was creating a nice breeze in the direction they were going. Efficiency!

I just wish they wouldn’t try to crawl into my mouth.

Also, I figured out the pipe-tobacco-smelling trees are maples, not chestnuts.

This morning’s movement jam: Prince’s “7”, a perennial favorite and with a good rhythm for the very last kilometer of a run one has to gut out.

It was a difficult run, probably because I’m still shaking off whatever had me on bed rest last week. (Was it last week? Time has lost all meaning.)

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Ragged Feathers

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