I didn't necessarily promise myself I'd blog every day. I write in my regular diary every morning. No need to blog on days when my private diary entry runs to more than two or three pages. Apparently this is blog a diary anyway (or a cross between a blog and a diary) because evidently no one is reading my solipsistic effusions.
Or should I call it a Dog?
That's fine, it still serves a purpose -- forces me to revise my prose so that it's clear to people who don't actually live in my head. Good for my writing.
No particular relevance in the photo; it's a picture of a trail tree in the southern Ozarks, one of my favorite places on earth. I've been deeply entranced by these deliberately deformed white oaks. Why are they all over southern Missouri?
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