I caught this little fellow in the brook that runs by the cabin. Check out his head and you'll see why they're called horny heads. Horny heads are a type of chub that only grow a few inches long and I used to love catching them as a kid. Just to gently rub the bumps on their hears, not to eat them. They're way too small for that. I let this one go seconds after I caught it.

I took this photo by mistake while I was walking through the forest but I really like it

The sun rising over the apple orchard on top of our mountain. The bristly seed heads are foxtail which are pretty to look at but lousy to make hay with (the seed heads can get stuck in a horse's gums, tongue and throat).

I sent Dylan a few heads of garlic from our garden. He lives in a big city where they don't write on tulip poplar leaves much.

This is the stream behind our cabin. I love how it runs quieter when it's full of leaves.

I made Julia pancakes Saturday morning and had a little batter left over so I made our border collies Lucky and Diggity a short stack. A very short stack. At least I put on a lot of butter.

Apple picking season: my wife Julia using her pony Pie as as a step pony to pick crab apples in our orchard. I planted this tree six years ago which makes it a great example of exponential growth (it was a twelve-inch-tall bare root plant when I stuck it in the ground)

It was just Julia and Pie that morning under the blue sky, looking over the Brushy Mountains.

Eight years ago, I planted some baby pawpaws. They're finally rewarding us with what's become my new favorite fruit. They're North America's largest native fruit and taste like a cross between a banana and a pineapple which is why people call them custard apples. Too bad their skins are so thin they'd never survive the trip to the grocery store. That's why, if you want pawpaws, you have to grow them yourself or be good buddies with someone that does.