Perhaps I was around three or four. I can't quite remember but I was young and we lived in the backcountry of California, up in the mountains.
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It was a marvellous place to be an active, excited young kid and downright murderous on my Mother's nerves, she was always peeking out the windows, keeping an eye on me, yelling for me at the slightest hint of danger. I've been city-fied but back then I was absolutely fearless and loved to constantly be outdoors, my Mother was always a city gal.
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Anyways, being where we were it was this gorgeous blend of stunning mountains and forests with Californian heat and desert. Really a gorgeous area, I miss it terribly.
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But that led to this assortment of plants in our backyard... a dense forested area covered in moss and haunted by quail, and a few little pops of cactus.
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You might already see where this is going... Anyways, I had just tried at the local Albertson's a cactus fruit. Never had it before. I was instantly obsessed. And I learned real, succulent, watery cactus fruit could be harvested from any old cactus plant.
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Cactus plants we had in our backyard. This is the beautiful, prickly intersection of opportunity, hunger, and naivety.
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And in my amazing cactus-fruit harvesting adventures I fell into the plant face-first. And it wasn't a plant with those huge, thick thorns. No that would've been a mercy resulting in epic scars. It was one of those varieties with nearly microscopic hair-like prickles. That I coated myself in.
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And my tireless city-gal Mother spent hours painstakingly plucking them out of my elbows, eyelids, lips, and knees.
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Only for me to do it again not a week later.
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This is hella long but that's my story.
Summer Month: 1 
Day 
Earthquake
