I really miss the sanctity of spring or summer nights while on mushrooms. Some of the best and purest memories I have of old friends are from wandering the lake community I grew up in on damp and/or drizzling summer nights. We always got really hung up on our R sounds during speech for some reason. ie: “It’s so frrrrresh out right now. So rrrrrefrrreeshing after a good rrrrrrain…”, all the while hiding from passing vehicles by way of drenched shrubbery.

Running out into fields to push hay bales around (and fortunately not winding up under them), or standing silently at the blinking red stoplight in the center of the desolate intersection, admiring the strange, soft glow of the Pepsi vending machine outside of the closed gas station.

Man, those were the nights.