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The more things change...

Change is not so much what we make as it is what happens to us unawares. Not everything that changes is progress but it is inevitable that everything changes. The seasons flow on, all too quickly. We tighten our life-vests, and try to steer clear of the rocks. Along our way down the river, we are grateful for every resting place. Here's ours. Above, as it was in our first August here in 2016, and below, as it is now. We still miss the old cherry tree in the foreground of the first photo. It died the year after we moved here. We've carved a garden out of the hill and planted blueberries on the slope above. One thing hasn't changed. We're still here. It's still home. We'll hold to that reality as long as we can.


We have airfried green tomatoes incoming, thanks to the anonymous plants that sprouted from our compost bin this spring. We have no idea what variety they are. Although timely transplanted to the garden, the vines didn't begin blooming until mid-August. 

 This is the best  (and latest) crop of tomatoes we've had since arriving on the mountain six years ago.

We'll let a few ripen so we can save some seed.


Henry's books.

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