it's a good day for growing grass

DISPATCH Sierraville, CA - somewhere in between Truckee and Reno, snuggled in the upstairs loft of my aunt and uncle Selfridge's barnwood home, vegetable stir-fry in my stomach, sunburnt of nose and sound of spirit.

Sierraville in the spring (when they get one) is all golden dragonflies and wildflowers and lilac shrubs, bustling (ok, not 'bustling' by most town standards) with cattle trucks and cars as the last of the cattle are brought up to graze the valley for the summer. I rode on the back of Gretchen's quad through the dusty heat yesterday to see the creeks up the mountain (there may have been an incident with a broken bridge and some soggy feet) and can admire mountains, cattle, hummingbirds, whole-wheat jam cookies and fields of flowers from the view I staked out in the hammock.

It's a little hard to concentrate on Great Expectations with all this sweet air.

(But don't worry, momma, I am doing my reading.)