Homosassa Springs Wildlife State Park: A Hippo-Sized Good Time

It was a bit on the chilly side, but was still a great day to visit the Homosassa Springs Wildlife State Park. The park is full of native FL wildlife—and one old hippo (we’ll get to that). The staff and volunteers were quick to point out that the animals at the park are all some sort of “rescue” and are unable to survive in the wild, so it’s much less like a zoo and much more like a sanctuary. I certainly love to explore wild, out-of-the-way places, but a slightly more “domesticated” trip of this sort can also offer some great context and the opportunity to see wildlife up close and personal-like.

Seeing the native birds…flamingos, spoonbills, pelicans, and herron of all kinds…even a few birds of prey (osprey, hawks, owls and eagles) up close was certainly a treat. I was particularly keen to spend some time in the company of one particular, unassuming bird fisher. I don’t really have a spirit animal, but if I did, it would be the Green Heron. I find them particularly fascinating. Come to think of it, perhaps a post or show dedicated to this little wonder is in order.

But of all of the day’s views, I was most overwhelmed and smitten by the “fishbowl.” The spring that is the headwater of the Homosassa River bubbles from the bottom of a “bowl” of stone that is 189 by 285 ft wide and 55 foot deep. And it is teeming, 365 days a year, with various fresh and saltwater fish. And by teeming, I mean likely the most fish I’ve ever seen in one place at one time in the wild. The 3 spring vents in the main bowl discharge, on average, 0ver 65 million gallons of water per day fed by a 270 square mile springshed. It was almost as if the specie-specific schools of fish were dancing as they slowly undulated and circled past and around one another with the occasional flash of a mangrove snapper showing it’s side standing in as the disco ball. I could have watched, from the underwater observatory or above, for hours.

As we moved along down the trail along the river, making our way over to the other side of the park, we spied a few manatees resting in the warm, shallow water. The spring and portion of the river along the park are roped off during the winter months to provide safe haven, especially for manatees, away from the crowds of tourists and local folks looking to party in the crystal clear water. We were also on hand at feeding time and learned a little more about these gentle beasts in residence there.

The last stop of the day was to to see Lu. The park’s resident hippo is one of the oldest in captivity. His given name is Lucifer, but I’m guessing the parks department didn’t really think of that as a “family friendly” name for the resident of a public park. He’s over 60 now (most live to 40 or 50), and is the last remaining “exotic” animal from a stretch in the park’s history when it was a commercial attraction filled with them. He’s also Florida’s only non-human legal resident. Under state ownership, the decision was made to re-home all of the non-Florida native exotics to rescues and sanctuaries. But Lu was the most popular animal at the park, and local residents started a petition to keep him. The creative way around the “native-only” park rule was to grant him Florida residency. So the governor at the time did just that.

Notably, though the park is also home to the Florida Panther, Lu, as you can see from the park signage, is the one that represents a bit of danger.

Thanks to my pal, Linda, for the above-water pic of the fishbowl. 🙂

Two Rivers Ran Through It

A good paddling

Sometimes you just need a good paddling. And this past weekend was a beautiful one to get out on the water. So, we made plans to roll the #CariVan to the Little Manatee River State Park and then on to the Myakka River State Park a little further south. Two rivers, not an hour apart, presented with an entirely different landscape. The upper part of our run in The Little Manatee, save it’s clear, light-iced-tea color and slightly different vegetation, could have easily been a creek or river in Michigan or Southern Indiana. A little more like Michigan, I suppose, with the sandy bottom. The lower part of the run opened up a bit and became less tree-shrouded with wider, more even depth, slower flow, and the compliment of grasses and large areas shaded by lilypads. And while the water was thick with turtles, freshwater crab, mullet, and even offered up bluegill when tempted by a fly cast, we hadn’t a gander of a gator for the entirety of our 6-mile float. I’m also happy to say that we passed our first test as a two-person crew paddling the tight, technical flow and turn of the upper river with nary a fuss or fault. But then again, we already knew we made a good team.

We then headed south towards Sarasota, pulled into the park just before dark. Once at camp, I immediately started a substantial fire so that the perfect coal bed was ready to prepare a hobo dinner and eat it by the light of my trusty old candle lantern. Myakka, Florida’s only designated Wild and Scenic River, is all but owned by the American Alligator. In fact, the canoe livery there doesn’t supply the river at all, only the upper lake. We really wanted to explore the river to the south by water, but with only inflatables in our personal arsenal and guaranteed difficulty seeing the multitude of board-threatening underwater obstacles in the dark waters, we opted against paddling through the alligator-infested waters. This time.

Instead, we pumped them up and paddled around the lake a bit. I won’t lie, the 12mph winds made for a good workout on an iSUP! And as for the gators, the shallow area of the lake certainly had its share and we were more than happy to give them a wide berth!

One Pack to Rule Them All? The ULA Dragonfly Backpack

A while back, I reached out to ULA Equipment about building a custom pack for me based on what has become their Dragonfly Pack. At the time, an earlier version with slightly different specs and dimensions had been released as their “Everyday Pack”.

My idea was for it to be “one pack to rule them all.” We were full time on the road touring (drives and flights) AND hiking/exploring, so I wanted a pack that could go from travel pack to daypack to backpacking pack to gear hauler. It had to be light, tough and versatile! A tall order, for sure. I have a bad habit of asking a little too much from my gear in general, but living in a 200-square-foot Airstream didn’t really accommodate having 4 different packs. It needed to be oversized daypack/ultralight backpacking pack sized and also be able to haul over 20lbs safely and comfortably for music gear sometimes and extra water when exploring arid landscapes. Oh, and it needed to fit under an airline seat since my guitar counts as my carry on when touring so my “personal item” has to handle everything else for quick trips when not checking baggage.

As it turned out, their lead pack designer was already working on something in that vein. I made a few tweaks. Heavier fabric, removable padded/pocketed hip belt, heavy-duty compression up and down both sides, and load shifters to snug heavier loads against my back (now standard on the new, larger volume version called the Atlas Pack). Some folks think load shifters only belong on bigger, framed packs. I just like being able to snug the load in against my shoulders in all but the most ultralight short hike situations.

So about a week later it was in my hands and quickly on my back. Within the first month or so she was stuffed under an airplane seat and drug around New York for the Brooklyn Americana Music Fest and trekking all over the Southwest…from Santa Fe to Moab to The Grand Canyon and more. Overall early impressions were pretty great.

There are several things I really dig about the pack, and a few annoyances as well…there is no perfect pack. True to ULA form, I love how comfortable it carries, even when loaded. The “modular” frame system that consists of removable foam sheet and aluminum stays that can be taken in and out of the “laptop sleeve” gives you several options for support and back panel rigidity. Nice. Frankly, though, there is enough material/rigidity in the back panel/sleeve itself to accommodate all but the heaviest loads and/or long trail days. The loops to add a bungee across the front are certainly welcome when it’s time to dry out wet gear. The integrated top pocket is great for accessing wallet, phone, snacks, etc. while traveling by air or when taking a rest on a hike. That said, unlike the original Everyday prototype, it shares volume with the main pack body, which gets frustrating when you are left robbing Peter to pay Paul as you move gear around to get the most efficient load.

The hip belt is removable, but unlike many ultralight packs with a removable 1″ webbing belt, this is a legit, padded option that fastens pretty quickly and easily with two attachment points on each side. This makes integrated hip pockets as well as true, secure load transfer when carrying heavier loads possible. I just leave it off when I want to streamline it as a travel pack or for day hikes where I’m carrying a lighter load. The hip belt pockets are also nice added volume for quick access while trekking (snacks, tools, headlamp, etc.) though they could be a little deeper as far as I’m concerned. They are certainly big enough, but if I had it to do over again, I’d make them a bit bigger and choose a lighter fabric than the VX50 of the pack body as it’s pretty stiff for a zippered pocket.

I love the access of a panel-loader, especially for travel, but it isn’t the best option for overstuffing on an overnight hike. Top loaders shine there. It also restricts the size of the front mesh pocket on the sides where it meets the perimeter zipper and across the zippered top (necessary for securing items in the stretch pocket while traveling but a bit of a pain on the trail as it’s not very “overstuff friendly”). I also get a little more nervous really ratcheting the compression as it seems to put a lot of pressure on the water resistant u-shaped panel zipper. To ULA’s credit, though, it has yet to fail me despite the apparent strain.

One of my favorite features are the oversized 4-way lycra stretch side pockets. These babies are CAVERNOUS when in use, but shrink down to near nothing when empty, allowing them to be entirely out of the way when using as a daypack or travel bag. In fact, though the design allows for internal water bladder carry, I found I could load my slim 1.5L Hydrapak bladder in one of them and balance out the other with a couple of repurposed 1L disposable bottles for ease of refill and to avoid the risk of a leak soaking the contents of my pack body when needing to carry lots of H2O. Speaking of the side pockets, the heavy-duty web compression straps go all of the way down the sides of the pack INSIDE these pockets. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t make that choice. The combination of structure provided by the stiffer VX50 and the fact that this safety gal always carries components of the “5 Cs of Survival” (more on that another time) even on a day hike, I haven’t really needed to compress it much. Also, the straps become a hang-up hassle when stuffing things in the side pockets on the go.

It’s always a risk when you try to design something to serve so many purposes. Often it ends up serving none of them well. Not in this case. All in all, my nitpicks are just that…especially when I was demanding so much utility from one pack. I made my wish list knowing it was probably asking too much, and this little pack just said “hold my beer.” In fact, though she pretty much amounts to a customized Dragonfly pack these days and there is now even that larger version called the Atlas, I call her the “ULA EveryWay” because she does so many things so well.

A “Casino Quality” Life

Holiday Rest

Card games have been a part of my social life since I was a baby. Literally. When I was born, we lived in a travel trailer at the Holiday Rest campground on Raccoon Lake. Evenings and weekends brought out all the older folks to sit around under the strings of cheerful, plastic owl patio lights and play cards. Spades, Hearts, Poker, Pinochle, Rook, Rummy, Euchre. The cheap beer flowed and ashtrays propped up slow burners orphaned by a good hand…or burned out by a streak of them. The story goes that I did some of my teething on someone’s classic Zippo sitting around the glow of one of those lakeside gatherings.

After we moved to a little rental cabin a few miles away, we’d go back to visit our old neighbors…and play cards. When I was 3 or 4, mom and dad bought their first house, and started attending church. The impromptu picnic table matches were replaced by a nice couple or two over for dinner on a Friday or Saturday night with cards after the kitchen table was cleared…and after pie, of course. Usually Euchre or Rummy. Many of these couples were older than my parents with kids that were grown or old enough to stay home alone. That was fine with me. I typically preferred the company of adults anyhow. I would pull up a stool, watch & listen. It’s how I learned to play, and how I learned the art of good-natured trash talk.

My aunt gave me a deck of cards one year for my birthday and showed me how to bridge shuffle. I carried them with me everywhere and wore them (and my poor mother) out practicing. That first deck of my own was Bicycle brand, and I think they were the narrower Bridge size to accommodate my tiny paws. I’ve had many decks since…even some plastic jobbies for outdoor water resistance. But ultimately, my loyalty is with Bee’s Diamond Back “Club Special.” The linen finish makes them slick but not slippery, the full 2.5” width makes the proportions just right, and the red is just deep enough not to be garish. Jackpot. Make no mistake, it’s life’s little pleasures that make it “Casino Quality,“ friends.

A Gulf Coast “Grand Slam”

Fishing "The Nature Coast"

The day called for a little more wind than you’d want on the open water, so when I arrived at the spring to meet my guide, Captain Duane, he said our day out was gonna be what he referred to as “sporty.” I can only assume that meant, given the forecast, that this would be more of a fish-targeting mission and less of a pleasure cruise. Fine by me. After all, he calls his charter service “Windsplitter,” so I figured I was in good hands.

We idled through the crystal blue water toward the river, careful not to disturb the manatees seeking refuge from the cold snap in the warmth of the spring. Once out of the no-wake zone, the small, shallow-drafting skiff was pointed westward and out the river to the flats. With steady winds in the 11-12mph range, I quickly learned just what “sporty” meant. I was glad I to be wearing my little packable rain jacket/windbreaker, and downright thrilled when that little jacket, instead of my shirt, was instantly soaked as the bow came down hard in the chop. Surprisingly, given its light hull, the little Custom Gheenoe LT25, dubbed “Awesome Sauce,” handled the rough surf like a champ.

We ventured about 10 miles out from the 7 Sisters Springs, which is a few beyond John’s Island, the water-accessible homes and fishing shacks, and where the river breaks into and around tidal waterways and outstanding islands, oyster bars and mangroves. We were playing the tide, which the Northwesterly wind had delayed but not entirely detained. As we awaited that magic hour around high tide when the redfish come into the shallows to feed, we drifted the flats trying to pick up a stray trout. After some close calls fighting extremely shallow water and wind, I was finally fighting a respectable if not write-home-able spotted sea trout. A great size for eating. If you’re squeamish about that sort of thing, don’t look at that last pic!

Finally, the tide had come in enough and we headed a couple of miles back in to start threading the backwaters stalking reds. We found a hole in a bend that looked pretty fishy, so we gently dropped the anchor up current to try our luck. The bite was slow which was even more maddening as we saw the occasional wake made by an sizable fish in the shallow coastal water. But just as the wind, which had calmed a bit, began to pick up again, making me wonder if it was near time to move on, something besides the bottom gave a tug at the end of my line! Once on the hook, this sweetheart put up quite the fight. It was readily apparent that we’d have to pull anchor and make chase as it took off around the bend, reel drag whining in protest, me grinning and grunting through the delicate tug of war that requires you pull hard enough to keep the fish but not so hard as to break a line or pull a knot. As Capt. Duane scrambling to get us loose to follow, the line went slack and my heart sank. But the fish had just come back our way for a second and then the match was back on. We made our way around the corner, spooking the few remaining reds in the hole as we went by. The afternoon sun had parted the morning’s deck of clouds by now, and as the red came to the surface with the flash of a giant shiny penny, I swear I teared up a little. So beautiful. After bringing the fish to the gunwale a few times only to spark another run, it was finally in the net and in the boat. I could breathe again.

A nice, 26-inch red drum…just barely inside of the top end of the slot for keepers. I think the assumption was that I’d be adding it to the cooler, but I just couldn’t. Dinner was already on the table with the trout I had kept earlier. This would have been more than we needed, and keeping such a beautiful specimen was just more than my rapidly beating little angler’s heart could take at that moment. This species can live upwards of 40 years, and I suspected this one had a bit more livin’ to do. So a quick pic as it “drummed” in my hands, a little re-acclimation to it’s watery home, and then grateful send off.

The time was nigh to make our way in via a couple of stops in route to see if we could snag another. No more bull reds, but a little snook rounded out the day and amounted to what they refer to as a “grand slam” around here…trout, snook & red in the same day. Back home saw the fillets blackened on the cast iron, cradled in a tortilla with a little fresh slaw, and accompanied by a local IPA while I spun fish yarns fireside. A few hours on the water, a few fish on the line, one good fight, one delicious dinner, and a boatload of fun. I’ll take it. Thanks Captain Duane..

GEAR REVIEW: First Take on the Titanium Nano from Firebox Stoves

Well, I was gonna make stuffed bell peppers for dinner, but an evening by the campfire was calling, and so was my new Firebox Stove Titanium Nano! So I just chopped everything up and made a skillet out of it! I’m sure using cast iron (even a small dutch oven like this one) is pushing the bounds of intended use based on weight, but it worked like a champ…in this case, I used the Trangia burner so I could just relax and control the simmer a little easier than wood.

I’ve only had this thing a week, and I’m totally blown away by how strong, portable, versatile, and LIGHT it is! Every dang detail of this baby is so well thought out. You can tell it was designed by someone passionate about creating a great tool who has spent tons of time using and testing it in the field. I’m a big fan of multi-purpose gear, and while this is obviously for the purpose of cooking, I love the multiple fuel and set-up options that mean I’m ready for any food prep situation we may find ourselves in. From boiling water for a quick cup of coffee or backpacking meal while hiking or on tour, to prepping more substantial meals at our basecamp or van-camp site, to throwing it in my daypack along with a little skillet in case things get fishy and have the option of a shore lunch.

I like gear, sure, but it’s been a while since I was this stoked about a new addition to my kit! Stay tuned for a future, more in-depth discussion about the HUGE Nano as I put it through the paces.

An Indiana Spring Evening

A lovely Spring sunset lights the web of a bowl-and-dolly spider somewhere in the Hoosier National Forest. The forecast called for rain but we were given reprieve, if temporarily. So another campfire was in order. The moon in the southern sky put on quite a show…the pic, as always, does it no justice. It was the thin toenail-shaped beginning of a waxing cycle but with that halo glow that almost suggests a lunar eclipse.

The clouds where doing their part to paint the canvas of twilight as well while the treetops provided a foundation that seemed to simultaneously prop it up and anchor it down. As a pair of Barred Owls called to each other over the song of the frogs and the whippoorwill sang in the distance, we caught a glimpse of the big dipper before those clouds made their lazy way across the sky to obscure our view and turned our attention back to the glow of the fire dancing at our feet.

And then, marshmallows…I swear they taste better roasted on a stick you whittle yourself.

A Bucket For Your List

Praise for the bucket

If you’ve spent much time with me, and especially if you’ve had the chance to spend any time surveying my outdoor gear, you know that I’m a big fan of things that serve multiple purposes. In fact, I’ve often said that if a piece of gear can’t do AT LEAST 2 things, it’ll have a hard time earning its way into my pack. So it’s no surprise that I find myself pretty smitten with the lowly bucket. And while the 5-gallon manifestation is certainly a classic, I am drawn to its cousin nearly half that size. Why? For one, that size is just…well…handy. And the weight of it full of water (about the heaviest thing I carry in it) is about the max I wanna schlep around the homestead.

I was first introduced to the joys of this 1/2 pint wonder when I opened my first gourmet shop and one of the suppliers sent liquid product in these food-grade pails. They recycle, sure, but I always prefer UPcycle when possible. And once I figured out all of the things they were good for, my lifelong love affair commenced.

Case(s) in point: Just the other day, I used the same bucket for 4 different tasks. First, it was to hold the collection of sandbur (or sticker bur, if you prefer) grasses I had dug up from the yard. It may take me months or years, but I am determined to eradicate them and their little demon seeds. If for no other reason (and there are plenty of other reasons, trust me), 5 minutes of weed whacking and I look like I’m covered with miniature mines that take time…and considerable pain…to remove from my clothing. Texans are hearty people, and it’s no wonder…everything in the out-of-doors here is trying to hurt you.

Secondly, I noticed the recent storms had relieved the resident mesquite and oak trees of a few dead branches and deposited them underfoot. So, I grabbed my trusty bucket and made a turn or two around the property. Next, it was time to fill in a little sink hole. What do you think I used to fetch the dirt? Yup, you guessed it. And finally, that sage bush out front needed some extra liquid love, so I put my little friend to one of its primary uses. A small list of chores complete, and aided in every one by my baby bucket.

Nature has its beauty, as you and I well know and seek out at every opportunity, but there is also a beauty in the utility of simple tools to dispatch simple tasks. Speaking of which, I think some of the prickly pears have tunas ready to harvest. Now, where did I put my little bucket?

Unexpected Blooms: Fly Fishing The Texas Hill Country

The nice thing about wade fishing a river is that, in those moments, there is nothing else. Naught but the kiss of the sun, the caress of the breeze, the song of the water. The worst I may face is the errant gust of wind, a fly stuck in the brush from a lazy backcast, or a surprised serpent (always vigilant on that one).

I continue to be amazed at the resilience of the flora in these parts. The ability to grow up and flourish…seemingly with so little support from the earth or sky. The plants here are not typically as lush as back home in the Midwest, but they are hearty and beautiful in their own right. And I love how often I am pleasantly surprised as I encounter unexpected blooms—there seems always to be something blooming in this part of Texas.

Fly fishing here is different as well. The water is often wide, clear, and shallow, so sighting and stalking fish takes a slightly different approach. When I get too close or too clumsy and see the silhouette dart across the bottom, I often feel like those undercover agents on TV who talk into their earpieces to say “mission aborted, I’ve been ‘made.’”I don’t really mind. One of the main reasons I fly fish is to slow down. To hone patience. To court calm. So when I spook my quarry, when I throw a tailing loop and knot the living hell out of my leader, when I backcast into a sticker bush to find a magically and instantly woven web of tangled tippet with a tiny fly in the middle—I simply take a deep breath and set about the task at hand. I walk on, I untie, I untangle…for as long as it takes.

And the likely bonus of a blown opportunity? As I walk or wade along to find the next honey hole, over the rock or around the river bend, I might just stumble upon another unlikely oasis of blooms in the middle of the stones or squeezing out from a crevice in the granite. I’ll admit, I find some parts of our home planet more “homey” than others. I’m so grateful that I have had and continue to have the opportunity to seek and find so many of them.

Three Gates for Your Gab

Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates:

Is it TRUE?
Is it NECESSARY?
Is it KIND?”

On any given Sunday, that’s pretty sound advice. But in our current communication climate, it might just be a survival-level skillset. When the dust settles, we always stand responsible for what we did & said. Or didn’t do or say. We will answer…if only to the mirror…for who we decide to be right now. I’ve often heard it said that alcohol, or perhaps it’s more accurate to say “drunkenness,” is an amplifier. Happy folks get happier, mean folks get meaner, sad folks…well you get it. Seems like crisis has a similar effect. For better or worse, the past year has given us a good glimpse of who we are.

With us all a little energetically “louder” it’s hard to miss. A neighbor when I was growing up had a tile trivet hanging in her kitchen that said “Women are like tea bags. You don’t know how strong they are until you put them in hot water.” But I’d expand that to say you learn a whole bunch more than that. Hanging at home trying to stay busy/distracted after work or INSTEAD of work? Just sit for a bit and “stare at your navel.” Or better yet, write about how you’ve been showing up to yourself and others since virus started hitting the fan. If this concept of self reflection and responsibility doesn’t resonate for you, this conversation is likely not your jam, so might just wanna just stop right here.

I’ve dug that 3-gate thing since first I heard it. I think some mistakenly attribute it as a buddhist saying. That’s what I initially heard, but turns out it’s not. Anyhow. I couldn’t care less (yes, it’s “couldn’t” – this little rural Indiana gal didn’t learn that until college neither). Wisdom is wisdom regardless of the source. Been thinking about this one a lot recently and thought I’d expand it out a little as applied to these times. For the sake of practicality and to help myself stay mindful. Okay, here goes.

IS IT TRUE? Well, that can be a hard rabbit to chase these days. Especially since the revocation of “The Fairness Doctrine” in 1987. In short, it had two basic elements: It required broadcasters to devote some of their airtime to discussing controversial matters of public interest, and to air contrasting views regarding those matters. And we all know what’s come of that. I know lots of us are wanting to share information with each other and that many are getting most of their “news” from their social media news feeds. That’s fine, but if you want to honor this gate, I recommend vetting any story you think of sharing with at least a couple other outlets…preferably at least one of which is opposite leaning from your go-to. With that, I’ll also say (as I have before) that if you are getting your info consistently from just one source, it is very likely you are ill/mis-informed. No matter the outlet. #youcanquotemeonthat So do what you can to see that what you are broadcasting is TRUE.

IS IT NECESSARY? Now that one’s pretty dang subjective. What constitutes “necessary?” That’s why you have to dig deep on this one…’cause it’s between you and you to decide. And maybe another thing to ask is “for whom is it necessary?” There’s not really a wrong answer here…maybe you feel it’s necessary to share certain info or perspective you have. Necessary to call bullshit on what you see as misinformation or destructive/decisive language. Maybe it’s just necessary for you to vent about something (in your opinion, lol.) But here’s what I’ll say. If you’re in a quandary about this question, maybe it’s best to just skip to the next.

IS IT KIND? And while that’s plenty strong as-is, I’m going to offer an alternate for this one relative to our current climate. IS IT HELPFUL? Now that’s not to say these are mutually exclusive. You can, of course, usually be kind and helpful. And I suppose “kindness” is a bit open to interpretation. You know, like is it “kind” to tell someone they have bad breath? Some would say yes, some no. I know, that’s a rather simplified example, but it’s enough fodder for extrapolation. So that’s why I offer “HELPFUL” as an option here. Before you open your mouth, click those keys or tap that screen keyboard…is what you are about to share helpful? And I don’t mean as in “they sure need to by-god hear what I have to say!” Because let’s face it, you’re not gonna change anybody’s mind that way. At worst, you are contributing to energetic division and at best you’re preaching to the choir.

Do I have opinions? You bet your sweet bippy. About pretty much any topic you can field. And I don’t shy away from sharing them. But I try (and fail sometimes) to do so without the need to challenge anyone else’s perspective or shame anyone for seeing a matter differently. It might just make a difference, but it doesn’t always work out that way. Sometimes you start out standing alone and end up there too. But if you feel strongly…just keep standing.

In truth.
Out of necessity.
In kindness.
Stand.