“Get in the shower Robinson Crusoe, you aren’t in the field anymore,” the WideEyedSpouse sounded a little snarky.

“I’m still cleanish,” I whined. So what if I didn’t feel it necessary to shower for the third day in a row. “You know,” I told the Spouse, “you can be too clean.” The Spouse looked me over, “yeah, well, you aren’t.”

I took a shower.

I’m now two weeks back from living in a remote field camp and running a multidisciplinary research program. I am remembering to flush the toilet regularly and I don’t wake up wondering where I am anymore.  I have been warm, dry, and well-rested for days.

I miss the field.

The aching beauty of the landscape.

Corvie Bay North, Kiska Island.

Tiny, higher elevation young delphinium.

Segula.

Uncomplicated comforts.

Bathing with a view. Corvie Bay Camp.

The pure joy of a job to do, unencumbered by conflicting imperatives.

Heading home.

WideEyedFunk in 40 degree wind and rain in a cliff edge archaeological feature. I love my job.

But my gardens here in Buffalo are in bloom . Hamish the Corgi and Miss Tibbit the Useless Little Black Dog are here. And the WideEyedSpouse once again has my back against the world’s troubles. Home is good too.