little by little, the betster and i (that's my dog, you know) have been making our way around the trail we love so much. at first, we were brave and trudged through very deep snow and went a short distance but worked hard enough to feel like it had been miles. then a little more, a little more, until today when we could finally get all the way around and still be somewhat challenged by snow. the fields are almost bare, with big drifts and piles from the plows remaining. i spent a week in texas, where they say it snows sometimes. why, just back in 1985... i played my fairly new nylon string guitar for a fairly long time last night. i like it. it's fun to have around. it's a cordoba. i am looking at another in a series of spectacular sunsets from my upstairs window. this is a good seat. my states of input and then pause have been so great that i have been happily forgetting about any output requirements. but now there is music in the music room again and there are stirrings in my daydreams and there are fun little percussion instruments to look at and ponder and there are 65 degree days in january in new england. betty (the betster) tiptoed off on my birthday and secretly ate enough to feed a small nation. i know this because later that night, she was so uncomfortable, she couldn't sit down or lie down or get comfortable at all. so her loving people whisked her off to the emergency vet where she got a squirt in the eye of something or other and out came all that food. crazy kid. she feels much better now. as one of her loving people, i shake my head and learn from her every day. output, indeed.