It is hard to write a nice long blog post every day!

Memory #4: One late summer Saturday I rafted down the American River near Sacramento with some friends. About halfway through the trip we passed a huge dead tree--an oak, maybe?--with what must have been at least forty turkey buzzards sitting in it. Like this times ten, except the vultures weren't impatient. They were just...sitting. Watching us.

It was really impressively creepy.

Memory #5: This is not a one-time memory, but a composite. My family would go to see our grandparents in Utah Valley and often return fairly late at night, and somehow it became a tradition to sing folk songs as we went home. (We never sang on the way there, for reasons passing understanding...perhaps because we usually traveled there in the daytime and many of us were reading.) My parents taught us many songs which I have never heard anyone not in my mother's family sing. I have no idea who else knows them--if they can be found in books, when they were written or who wrote them...

In these days of Google I am sure I could find out, but I rather prefer the mystery.

Here is one:
Lady moon, lady moon,
Where are you going?
Over the sea, over the sea.
Lady moon, Lady moon,
Who are you loving?
All that love me, all that love me.