The weather is not trying to kill us. Moving inside to outside isn’t a shock.
Barefoot in grass. And in hammock.
How hard and intense reading sessions are completed by work of the body. I see why monks do practical gardening and so on. The mind processes better and the body is more complete with useful muscle work.
Since 2004, this is post 2001 at Humanyms.
The yard is taking shape. The new doors in the studio brighten the whole place.
I found all the missing hats. The mysteriously missing baseball caps fell to the back of the top shelf. Thanks to a chair, I saw them, and the missing scarf, the badminton rackets, the frisbee and 2 bottles of sun protection.
That brings our total house count to 7. 2 empty. 2 creams of 30 and 50 spf, of known location. These found. And one other spray bottle on the lam.
Homemade rhubarb juice and homemade lemonade.
It’s date day. Our take off and talk about nothing instrumental or practical while we eat somewhere for a couple hours. It’s a lovely tradition.
Fireflies. I was sure I’d never see them again since we left the countryside but here they found us in our very yard. All this and bat swoop too.
The Bruce Taylor workshop closed the season with lots of food for thought on didactic poetry from the time of Socrates to present. None of which I’ll pass on here in the interests of going back outside among the sun and ferns.
The exchange boxes are back. Here’s the story behind the people of this round
Make yourself a good day,