SOME PEOPLE COULDN'T CARE LESS WHAT I'M FINDING DOWN IN THE BASEMENT..........but you know what?
I couldn't care less.
(Ever notice how that phrase is misused? Many people say I COULD CARE LESS.)
^.^
The raccoon news, as the culmination, one presumes, of the various literary thrusts of this author, little -published, little-heralded, shall live on, committed to the internet ether, as long as he draws breath sufficient to operate his scanner and other electronic raccoon-trements.
Here's this old dusted-off photo formed by taping two separate snaps together, shot subsequently seconds from each other and in the same campsite:
The Svea 123 campstove boils coffee that steams; the famed Lee folding camp table holds forth; blazing fire picks up the theme of the gas stove, also ablaze and sounding like a blowtorch! Swiss Army knife at the ready. Darkness falls. Raccoons and pocupines indigenous to Peninsula State Park, WI, waited to lurk. Evening Grossbeaks sang............
^.^
( Attn: Gourd farmers, Gourd Girl and Gourd Guy of Bluemounds WI.We've logged some arduous and hot spine-bending hours in the fields, but nowhere near as rigorously as you.)
