On the Trail

Feeling the need to escape, not knowing why, nor caring why, I picked up a stack of western novels yesterday. First on the list is The Virginian by Owen Wister.

But the bright sunshine and cloudless sky beckons me out of doors for a spell. Besides, I spilled all my words talking to folks at the bar last night about baseball, politics, the fate of humankind, and writing. That has not left many words for blogging, at least until I clear the jumble in my mind.