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I happened to go outdoors and to be looking at just the right part of the sky last night to see a meteor. It was brighter than most, and a golden color rather than the usual blue-white, and it moved more slowly than most meteors do. All this indicates that it had penetrated somewhat further into the atmosphere than the common meteors. It winked out after a few seconds, though, so it probably never reached the ground. Maybe its vaporized particles will fall with the coming winter's rains.
All things have gotten ahead of themselves this year. A while ago, taking the cooler air of late night while the dimmed moonlight made vague suggestions of flowers and house fronts, I realized that the crickets have grown few far sooner than in most years. Perhaps consumed by the abundant birds, they have left a void where their songs would be, have deprived the July darkness of its accustomed rhythm. It's odd to hear so few of them so early in the season, their distant chirps intermittent, the breeze then humming in the pines alone.
I think my cat must have gotten in a fight. She spent yesterday afternoon in a corner of the back yard, napping a bit but often awake and looking mournful. She came in late, moving slowly, and ate little. At first I thought she might be sick from devouring lizards, but after she slept a while she spent several minutes grooming herself, and I noticed that her fur was matted in several places as it sometimes is when she has gotten scratches or bites. She has continued to be indolent, napping in her favorite chair, but both awake and still much of the time, staring at nothing in the manner of cats. I hope she doesn't develop abscesses as she often does following an altercation with another cat. She's really getting much too old for that sort of behavior. But she is a strange little beast, and unlikely to change her ways. So near wild is her temperament that I'm surprised she consents to live with humans at all.
It is to be hotter again today, which means I might turn on the air conditioner for a while this evening. Sluggo will be pleased.
( Sunday Verse )
All things have gotten ahead of themselves this year. A while ago, taking the cooler air of late night while the dimmed moonlight made vague suggestions of flowers and house fronts, I realized that the crickets have grown few far sooner than in most years. Perhaps consumed by the abundant birds, they have left a void where their songs would be, have deprived the July darkness of its accustomed rhythm. It's odd to hear so few of them so early in the season, their distant chirps intermittent, the breeze then humming in the pines alone.
I think my cat must have gotten in a fight. She spent yesterday afternoon in a corner of the back yard, napping a bit but often awake and looking mournful. She came in late, moving slowly, and ate little. At first I thought she might be sick from devouring lizards, but after she slept a while she spent several minutes grooming herself, and I noticed that her fur was matted in several places as it sometimes is when she has gotten scratches or bites. She has continued to be indolent, napping in her favorite chair, but both awake and still much of the time, staring at nothing in the manner of cats. I hope she doesn't develop abscesses as she often does following an altercation with another cat. She's really getting much too old for that sort of behavior. But she is a strange little beast, and unlikely to change her ways. So near wild is her temperament that I'm surprised she consents to live with humans at all.
It is to be hotter again today, which means I might turn on the air conditioner for a while this evening. Sluggo will be pleased.
( Sunday Verse )
