I have a stack of writing assignments to address between the farm, the nonprofit, the zine publication, and the Driftless Area Magazine piece. Come mid afternoon, I couldn’t stare at an artificially brightened screen anymore while the real thing, penetrating sunbeams, poured through my window. I resolved to get outside and do some writing the old fashioned way. I gathered a notebook, a pen, and the hammock and stretched beneath the trees with my eyes to the sky. My thoughts drifted into a cursive narrative pattern and I spilled them onto the page, unplugged.


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