Blue sky, porch shade. Breeze-shuffled branches. Hammock taut, suspending me. Tiny spider resting suspended amidst hanging plant. Now and again the mosquito, clearly confusing mid afternoon for dusk. Afternoon of Eggers. A Heartbreaking something-or-other; Ends with Genius; First half, last half... never the whole thing at once. Two chapters in, pause to write this. Flops on chair for easy access. Phone close for who knows why. Pens, just in case... always.
I like our seashells.
Why is that one getting dried out?
Odd chairs... like marshmallows.
Hawks circle on wind currents. Far removed from the surface. I like hawks. Small birds twitter and chase. The ones that wake me at 6am.
Tires sound funny on brick streets.
Music --live maybe-- drifts from the Winery. Maybe not live; too varied. Circular, fountain-esque sprinkler in neighbor's yard. Like the ones I ran through... that was forever ago... getting old. Flippant striped awning of sprinkler house. Detestable honeysuckle blossoms asymmetrically draped across needless archway. Who really likes the smell anyway? And it really is pointless. Like that gate with no fence in Canton.
Unexpectedly good day. Never noticed that bird-feeder. Enough writing, more Eggars. I like him. Maybe two books in one month. Unprecedented! Right word? Don't know. Don't care. Back to reading now.