Glow

The first hint of daylight brings darting birds, gray shapes that whir by, barely visible. Other birds chirp nearby. All night the moon floated among clouds, sometimes its light no more than a pale glow, sometimes its form emerging, clearly round, but sufficiently draped that it appeared to steam, the vapor forming a pink halo. For a while, very late, Jupiter emerged, a tiny blue speck in an otherwise starless night. There were seldom shadows, the diffused light filling every corner of the landscape. Everything was vague but the splashes of white azaleas. I would like an azalea-lined path which I could follow on dim nights, leading to meadows and woods filled with browsing deer and hooting owls and the sound of running rills. Nights such as this are not for the common streets and the squat houses of the town. They deserve places where sprites might be moved to dance.

A Post In Which I Do Not Mention Sluggo

Another mostly gray day, and another night of drifting clouds, the moon trailing shrouds that glow and grow dark, then glow again. The mulberry tree is back to spewing puffs of pollen, and I am back to having a stuffy head. There are still only five lily blossoms. They bloomed before the rain came. Dozens of others were about to join them, but the damp and cold have held them back, and the early five are now wilting. The plants are confused.

I have not yet gotten to the store to buy the splitter and surge protector I need before I can set up the new computer. Everything always takes longer than I expect. The further delay has allowed me to shift some more objects about, though. The place is in danger of looking almost tidy. The shifting has exposed floor space which hasn't seen daylight for years. Tomorrow, I'll take the vacuum to it.

I'll be glad when the disruption is over.