I think I'll call this my "year in review", even though it's only coming up on May 1st. That's the celebration of Beltane according to pagan practices, and I think it represents a new year better for me.

I stopped typing in the middle of that last sentence. The lights at this Fredericton McDonlads look like they're dimming, changing their shading, a symptom of another panic attack. I've been having them on and off for the last week. I must be watching too much Sopranos.

Why so few blog posts for such an exciting life? Weeelllll, I've been busy doing nothing. I guess this phase started in December, 2024 when I ditched my van in New Brunswick after it became too cold to work on Ol' Clifford. I'm going to pick it up tomorrow and drive to my big boy job of silviculture, arborist technician in fancy words, but really I'm just a tree planter.

I've slept in lots of fields for so early in the year, and it's been lonely for sure. A solitary life is no skin off my kneecaps but it's a stark opposite from a March when I was volunteering at a hostel in Edmonton. I'm going through it, and in the plainest terms I'm slowing down to a slight hum after this work season (of course van depending).

I'd really rather be touring the 20+ songs I've written in the last year and which can be found on the lofi anthology "Got Any More of That ROAD..? That'll have to wait because although I've toured all of Canada at this point and am rearing to go again, I'd like a scene. I'd like some community, some rootedness and some home; but enough of the me me me.Thanks to everyone whose couch I've slept on or went for coffee with or experienced art with. You're all a part of this thing and I keep you all in mind every day of this precarious journey through my 30s.

Currently I'm submitting writing work to lit journals for the summer. Afterwards, get me some mulch. Cheers for reading druidheads.

D.