Dear Birch--The despair returns.

Thanks for the note. The days are so long. The sun beats down in this desert sand. The heat is eternal. I feel as though I'm fighting a losing battle and often wonder what's the point?



Last night I dreamed I was running away. Men with axes and fire chased me through the desert. My roots waded through the sand and I tried to hide behind my friends, at the bottom of the ravine, or in the mountains.

You were there beside me and helped me. You were able to distract the men for a moment so I could rest.

It's hard to remember to hope when every day is just the same. Heat and sand and no water. Thanks for reminding me that this is not the end. I look forward to the final day. It feels like a losing battle, but I know we are on the team that wins.

Your Friend,
Joshua

P.S. I am enclosing some opuntia juice. You won't need it till next winter, but it will warm you from root to twig.