A black bird glides through the air above the steady turn of giant white turbines. It lets out the tell-tale cry that says I'm not Crow--I am Raven.
Already I know that this will not be my last time to this hill, nor behind these bales of hay. The Festival of Speed is in June. Maybe I'll be back for that, maybe I'll let my husband come out with Wolf. Either way, one of us will be here with Wolf. It won't be long before he'll be travelling without us, but not just yet.
The weekend was a fast one, in the end. In more ways than one. A well run, well attended event. I still have to go through day two's photos... still more to come.
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