A time to plant, and a time to get implanted.

I believe last year around this time I was hiking at about 1,100 feet in the Appalachian Mountains. I distinctly remember discovering this massive clearing full of wild flowers and exotic looking butterflies flitting all over the flora. Beyond the wild garden was the steepest valley covered with the dark green trees tops. It was the perfect backdrop to the organic activity in the garden. The valley was illuminated by bright clear blue sky with the afternoon sun beaming above. The moment was perfect, almost phantasmagoric. One I could never forget because yours truly who is normally a camera happy citizen was so overwhelmed I forgot to put down my bear mace down to snap a flick. Doh!

365 days later, I opted not to become one with nature, but with technology. I am shacking up in the lovely achromatic operating room held at knife point by the man in white. The good doctor will wriggle the implant deep into the very bowels of my inner ear. Once in, reinforcements are called in to make sure everything is up to par. Then he will do some fancy blanket stitch to prevent everything that I got up there from oozing out. Instead of discovering plants, I'm the one getting planted. On the bright side, I won't need fertilizer.

All of this will be starting at my arrival at 8:15 Monday morning. Something tells me I am not going to bright eyed and bushy tailed for this venue.