I admit that blogging is far less appealing when I don't have photos to post. Which is paradoxical, because I started this back when I didn't have a digi-camera, and now I'm so spoiled. But I need to get somewhere to empty the contents of my memory-card, and haven't been able.
But, in case you follow my silly tales with any interest, here's the brief update. Sorry that I'm too tired today to add many colorful adjectives.
The barrel of stinky hides? We labored last night to cart them up the hill and bury them in the earth. Tyler and Greg (new Turtle Village work-traders, and the types who are immediate friends-like-family) kindly offered to help. We sent them away from the stink to the store instead, to buy up some brew to soothe weary bodies and minds.
As the last of the old deerskins were covered in soil and leaves, the heavens unleashed an electric thunderstorm, the kind that chills and thrills me, and causes all greenery to rise in praise. After our showers, Phil and I found Greg and Tyler under the sound of rain pounding on the canvas tipi walls. Shadowy sillhouettes cast by candlelight onto the slant, ribbed with pine poles.
I send up thanksgiving for this rain, and for a community of humans, plants, and animals.