There’s a NorthFace ad that includes the line, “I am not alive on a sidewalk.” Hear, hear. There are times when even cinnamon buns won’t do the trick, when my soul is screaming to inhale something without plastic or metal or rubber or concrete. I long for fresh air, overgrown flora and untamed fauna, a trickling brook or a meandering breeze. I need the bees busy around me, the moss decomposing, the smell of the sea, the call of the wild through the birds and the squirrels, the deer and the coyotes, the mountaintops and the craggy canyons.

I get tired of ones and zeroes, dotted yellow lines, recycling, bank account numbers, and pretty much everything man has ever come up with. Nothing can match a melancholy sunset, a tranquil dawn, an ominous storm, a defiant spring flower, a ruddy young bluebird.

Absolutely nothing. Except maybe favorite thing #3, which is tomorrow.