Self explanatory really. As the month of July draws us inwards we contemplate our stone age past and ages passed. Then we wonder about what is to come, what grey dark end times or nuclear desolation might there be? Chipping and smoothing stones, water our only lubrication, patience and energy, elbow grease and determination. We work on until an arrow head is formed. In time we'll attach it to a wooden shaft and fire it into the blue yonder. The kill? A rabbit, a bird, a fox, a deer maybe...but that's along way away and there's still proper food in the freezer. Now we're whistling old tunes by Crosby, Stills and Nash.
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