Thursday, May 24, 2007

I'm smelling of sweat, freshly-chopped grass, and a hazy but identifiable undertone of gasoline and manual labor. My toe tips are green, which I aptly predicted would happen when I looked down one minute into it and realized I hadn't had the foresight to change my sandals into running shoes. The "back forty," I was thinking to myself, although it's ony about half an acre. It certainly feels like it, however,when you're hacking at a stand-in Amazon jungle with a little red push mower.

0 Things not left unsaid: