Ever since I can remember I have had a reluctance to come down off the high ground.
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Pulling myself away from these airy mountains, where I share space with the eagles, wolves, ibex, and other mountain dwellers, is difficult to do.
The feeling weighed so strong today I decided to give it a name:
I clearly am, an alto-crastinator.
The perfect partner for today’s alto-crastination was some cheese from the sheep whose bells and I can hear below me, eggs from the chickens living at the foot of this mountain, and a tomato from the farm in the distance.
Alto-crastinating and making mountain connections.
Photo: Sierra de Fates behind Facinas. Courtesy of the author.
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