I had a great idea for my blog post. Something about Roby and the brook. Exhaustion and adventure. I remember thinking, now that’s a nice idea for the post while I walked up the steps, into the house. Now, of course, I’ve forgotten it. So another vague meta post about posting it is. 

Roby and I went to the brook together. She threw rocks and smeared clay-y-sand on trees and on herself. She washed her hands again and again and I swung her around. She loves that brook, and there are no bugs, either. It’s a good place. 

It’s further from where she sleeps than the brook I grew up with was from where I did. But its’ a very good brook. I’d like to add some stairs so it’s less precarious to get to. Maybe she can get there herself before too long, to read or to throw rocks or to get away from me.