Cooling

The moon rides higher as it wanes, and casts what seems a colder light. It is well suited to the slight but promising chill tonight's air has brought. When the moon has risen to the point at which the facades of all the houses have been darkened by the dropping shadows of their eaves, the sky begins to pale with approaching dawn and all the shadows are softened. Then Venus appears above the trees in the east, to shine a brief hour before it is outshone by the source of its light. Morning's best hour begins. I hear the sprinklers sending soft rain to the apple orchard, and the cool scent of water and wet leaves drifts by. The sky's faintly mottled look suggests the possibility that a few clouds might form, unless the haze is burned away by the rising sun. Back in the house, my cat has risen from her nap, and insistently meows to indicate her desire to go out. I'll grant her wish, and perhaps join her for a while, to watch as she explores her territory to discover what night visitors may have called. Soon, the room will have cooled enough that I can shut down the fans, close the drapes and go to sleep. Orion, I think, should be rising soon, invisible in the sunny sky. I like to watch his progress on winter nights, and to think about him there above in summer, watching me sleep the days away.

Dog Days Return

How sad is it that the most interesting thing to happen to me in the last week was probably getting those long-delayed LJ comment notifications? (This conceit is, by the way, but the merest of exaggerations.) I am experiencing the summer doldrums, and my only relief is the occasional unbidden flight of fancy, which inevitably comes to nothing. I waste away! During my tenure on this orb, it has been my experience that events of exciting and dramatic nature, either positive or negative, have been few, and tend to be clumped together, with, between them, long periods likely to induce ennui. This is due in part to my circumstances, but also due to my failure to seek out those exciting and dramatic events. I have ever suffered a propensity toward sloth, and thus expose myself to a life rich in monotony. Most of the time, I endure this consequence with equanimity, as it does have the advantage of providing more than the usual amount of time for repose. But now and then, repose pales. One can only repose so much before one grows sick of it.

All this is by way of saying I'd really like to go out and do something right now. I can't, therefore the night bites. Bites hard.

Screw it. I'm going to stand under the shower and pretend it's a waterfall in Hawaii.