what's love got to do with it
for starters, everything.
books, balls of twine, micro brew coasters, mid century cameras, the list of possibilities for what we might collect is only as small as our desire. but with attainment comes a heavy load (where to keep? which twenty twine balls to display?) and dust.
in our case: a burgeoning shelf of books from grand canyon river guiding days. stacks include maps (well of course), wildflower + bird field guides, books on the hopi and zuni, wallace stegner for under the stars by flashlight, assorted poetry, kenneth grahame's "wind in the willows" (read the chapter called the riverbank and this will make sense), and not one but two copies of On the Loose, the first-ever Sierra Club publication.
now the love question part. two brothers, one a student at uc berkeley, range the pre-glen canyon dam desert in search of beauty, meaning, truth, and while doing so record their wanderings and questioning in a collection of photos and musings. eventually the assemblage is bundled, placed in a paper sack and left on the doorstep of david brower.
it was called a chronicle of triumph and tragedy: the triumph of gaining new insight into oneself through encountering the natural world, and the tragedy of witnessing the splendor of that world threatened.
and then jerry, the older brother, drowned. the 70s happened and faded, glen canyon dam was built, the colorado river no longer runs wild and free.
and what's chocolate got to do with it? because the things we hold onto are not just made better by our sharing, they are cemented into our memory and held fast. there is no destruction that can unhinge the beauty of shared memory: the sunset at the top of the peak, the first in your face splash, the canyon wren wake-up call + coffee with your best mate, the bite when you really really want the whole thing to yourself.
in the works: a micro-micro lot of beans from honduras, the 2015 crop from bolivia, and batch 2.1 of our tanzania. we'll let you know when they're ready to be shared.