I heard it said this week that it's a struggle to have roots and wings all at once. I am most certainly a root grower, as much as I'd like to think of myself as something else. The world tell us to be 'epic'... but isn't knowing a place, it's seasons, it's details, it's tastes - isn't that truly remarkable? Even with these weighty roots, the world explodes with goodness and mercy around me. I don't know what much of the world smells like, but I do know the smell of mountain elderflowers mixed with our honey. It doesn't matter if I have to wake up each morning to milk the cow and that prevents me from doing... whatever it is people with wings do. Because this life, right here amongst the roots, is as good as it gets for this ol' bird.