Musings from a clockwork moose and friends
It started, as most questionable decisions do, with a text message and a leap. “We should go hiking on the Scottish Isles” Instead of laughing it off and saying someday…I said yes. There are now plane tickets, a rental car, and the ghost of a plan that’ll have us exploring Skye and Mull this September, relying on the rented suv to get us to where we can venture out in our hiking boots.
There’s a thing that happens when you slow down enough to actually taste something. Not just drink it — taste it. The peat, the salt, the ghost of an oak barrel that held something else twenty years ago.
People ask about the name. Fair enough — it’s not immediately obvious. It started with a cartoon moose, some imagination, a failed attempt at writing a book, and the realization that we’re all a little bit mechanical and a little bit wild. Here’s the origin story, such as it is.