Wild sprouts, flailingly madly off in all directions (apologies to terrific Canadian comic musician Lorne Elliott). Shoots and clumps firing skyward, leftward, and rightward, with no apparent sense of structure.

No, I’m not talking about the results of our recent lawn reseeding, which is doing just fine by the way, thanks for asking.

I’m describing the back of Mrs. That Dan Guy’s head, with her morning hair.

Egads, man…

Chow for now (hee hee hee…)