Welcome A note before the first dispatch.

f you've been to a real campfire, you already know how this works. Somebody's got coffee. Somebody's got something to say. Somebody else hasn't said anything in twenty minutes and that's fine too. The fire keeps the conversation honest. You can't lie comfortably to a campfire.

If you haven't been to a real one, here's the short version. Find a circle of folks who don't need you to perform. Add fire. Subtract phones. The rest builds itself.

These dispatches are a digital version of that. I won't send them on a schedule. I'll send them when something's hot enough to share. Sometimes a story. Sometimes a thing I noticed on a walk that I haven't figured out yet. Always voiced. Never promotional.

You signed up. That means you get the chair closest to the fire. Pull it in. Stay as long as you want.

The first dispatch is already up. You don't open a campfire with a thesis. You open it with a noise outside.

That's all this is. A series of noises outside. Letters from the wilderness when the fire is hot.

Still tending it,

Geno