Bloodhound

blackberries
Image courtesy of In Praise of Sardines

Last year this night bled into Sunday afternoon. Following a trail of crushed blackberries, I traced the stains with my fingers and watched as we went from mud to cracked glass to bruise. Late night notes, an errant bike ride, “drama at Inspiration Point.”

In a year, total turnaround, but, as always, I focus on dates.

Tonight’s bad mood explained.