A Perhaps Weekly Pandemic Periodical, #5

This is a loblolly pine's male cone

There are things where you are which were before you and which will continue to be after you.

The road on the eastern edge of our property, the one parallel with the ridgeline of the mountain, is named Pine Grove, and wouldn't you know we have groves of Virginia pines on either side of our property. These pines are not young; they are not shrubby about the waist. Rather, they are aged and hairy in the head and their boughs lean with the weight of their years.

A Perhaps Weekly Pandemic Periodical, #4

Things come and things go. There is a wind ever through our souls.

A baby cottontail now lives under our house on the mountain.

It is all open crawlspace under the house and only about two-thirds of it is sealed off with any sort of material. Anything—cat, possum, dog, bear, baboon—could crawl in right under the porch, and more than a few have.