A drive up into the mountains with Mom.
I have a grass problem.
The killer flower-weed that climbs up and strangles everything.
Mom hides behind a tree.
At the Poudre.
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"Looking foolish does the spirit good. The need not to look foolish is one of youth's many burdens; as we get older we are exempted from more and more, and float upward in our heedlessness, singing Gratia Dei sum quod sum." (John Updike)
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