Less Annoyed

Juno turns out to be responsible for my not getting LJ notifications. I've gotten an automated reply from them saying something ambiguous about them working on it by referring the problem to some other department which may or may not know what is going on. I got a second automated reply saying that the address to which I had written (presumably the one I reached through a link on their recently updated web site) either is no longer in use or does not exist. Apparently, Juno's left hand is not aware that its right hand has not been cut off. Anyway, since it looks as though it may take a while for the whole thing to be resolved, I've changed my LJ settings to send the notifications to a different inbox. It is on the internet, and is inconvenient to use, but it will have to do. Again I say buggery computers!

Last night was shirtsleeve weather until well past midnight, and I watched the nearly-full moon drift among gauzy clouds, and a cool breeze blew a song in the pines to accompany the hooting of an owl. I'm hoping it remains clear and warm for the lunar eclipse Thursday night. Sleep, now.

Quickly

Reading little, commenting less, posting hardly at all. Sluggo's little brain is dizzy from the heat, and it isn't all that hot yet. Summer is going to be Hell. Today was actually quite pleasant, for humans and kitties and birds and such. A few diminutive cumulus clouds hovered over the mountains, and the rest of the sky was a blue backdrop for the countless shades of green and the flourishes of dogwood blossoms our belated spring has brought. In one field, around a stand of young pines, I found a bed of ferns, rare in these parts. Springtime here is usually to dry for them, and winter is too cold. I don't know how long it will be before they are concealed by the burgeoning growth of mustard and wild oats that will soon dominate the field. While they last, it is pleasant to watch them softly rippling in the afternoon breezes.

The moon is now bright, and the night air smells of plants which have been heated -- a dense, vegetable smell. slightly suggestive of decay. I fear that the spring will be brief. Many plants which ought to have bloomed failed to do so, because of the bouts of cold with which April was plagued. But the hardier plants are now making up for lost time, rushing into blossom all at once, as though they had to get through the entire season in a few days. They probably do.

Tomorrow night, the lunar eclipse. The sky is perfectly clear tonight. I hope it holds.