I’ve written that three times now, and cargo has deleted it three times. But I’m not interested in complaining about how horrible coding or not coding is again.
-- 

Some time last week, maybe while I was finishing those shelves, 
or making pasta for supper or smiling at Abby, or smiling at the dogs, a deer was likely dying in our forest. 

Abby and I were walking the same route we usually do, the same route I had walked the previous afternoon, when we came across a grizzly scene.

I find myself thinking about animals out here far more than I ever did in the city. From my dogs to my ducks to the deer, they’re always on my mind, and I love them.

Behind that love, giving it context, weight, and terror, is the fact that many of the creatures in my orbit are livestock.

Eating meat is not something I’m required to do, but I think it is the right thing to do for reasons I’m not interested in getting into in this post.

I do think I owe these animals far more than the thought required of a stream of consciousness blog post, and I do my best to give them that. 

My position on meat being moral, on raising animals as livestock is far from carved in stone, but I feel good enough about it to do it.

I think it feels human to do, if you do it with love. 

I think a lot of things can feel human, if they’re done with love. 

Just before the place we saw the blood we saw this tree. There was a tree here that fell to stump, and from that stump grew a birch, up and around it. 

The tree grew and raised up and the stump rotted away, but you can still see it. 

I hope to be like that tree, I think.

I’m not sure which one.

bozo.