Ten Years Ago on FITK
Swamp Thing
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNy8fG1hpBtaNhwtdDNuXepIGhjRwRt14jGulgVkMftneL-HsKzqa2la2JFLxluk1dsEnmSiSLByp2kHGL4CYPJRQyOxu_K10m_WpZpELdEDHEoAUOpgLROm0cM9xlzz-Vfe0E/s640/Untitled-35.jpg)
When this post goes live I will have returned from the semi-arid Southwest and my mini-retreat from the harsh Minnesota winter.
The Weaver and I have a recurring discussion about where we’d live if money was no object: the desert, the sea side, a tropical island, perhaps Scandinavia. The deal-breaker for me would be any place without an abundance of fresh water. Mosquitoes aside, there is no place I’d rather be than in a small canoe in some reedy swamp; a place full of slimy life.
The primordial ooze.
A quiet symphony of aromas.
A minimalist soundtrack.
Getting in touch with my inner amphibian.
Minnesota nice.
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