I've been on sabbatical. There's much to talk about. I've not found Wendell in my absence. I've been depressed and hopeful both in the same breath. I've had slugs and weeds, sink holes and plumbing nightmares, tornados, floods and hail storms. I've questioned community, dug holes, wandered in the wilderness and watched my boys grow tan and wild. I've eaten from the garden, watched it wither in parts and bloom in others. What the hell has been the question of the summer. Who knew finding Wendell would be such a damned load of work. Where to begin?
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