basalt

Around the campfire, a quirky and somewhat obscene musical experiment quickly develops since its inception earlier in the afternoon on the third pitch.
The dwindling fire dances in the satin sheen of the lone classical guitar. In the shadows of the last log burning, voices sing, sometimes mumbling; the music… Read the rest

I found myself looking at the forecast for all of Washington and everywhere was calling for rain. It’s getting to be that time of year again. Everywhere but Frenchman’s Coulee. At least the forecast was calling for a small percentage of a chance of rain there. To add, I’ve never… Read the rest