Almost a month after reading this, I am still haunted by the image of the oil swirled stop your glass of wine. I walk my 11 yr old, 100+ lb hound mutt down to the tidal creek every morning— who am I kidding, he walks me— and, just for a moment or two, look for mullet under the tiny eddies and swirls. Woody’s getting old—even faster than I am.
Almost a month after reading this, I am still haunted by the image of the oil swirled stop your glass of wine. I walk my 11 yr old, 100+ lb hound mutt down to the tidal creek every morning— who am I kidding, he walks me— and, just for a moment or two, look for mullet under the tiny eddies and swirls. Woody’s getting old—even faster than I am.