Short

The woodpecker that plays the timbale tree is back this morning. I can't see which tree it is, but I'm thinking it must be one of the oaks to the west. The sound is quite loud, and I find it pleasing. Woodpecker music is one of my favorite things about living in a woody area. They are most active this time of day, so I heard less of them back in the days when I was still getting to sleep before dawn. They are compensation for my messed-up sleep schedule, I guess.

Speaking of which- I had another unintentional nap of about an hour's length around midnight, and now I'm up way too late. I think I'll have to get some sort of implants in my brain before I can regain anything resembling a regular sleep schedule. Feh.

Droopy

All I really wanted to do this evening was lie on a beach somewhere and doze. I'd have needed and umbrella for shade, of course, as my pasty skin burns to a crisp in about thirty seconds, but what I needed most was a beach! None within a hundred miles of this place, unless you count those grubby little strips that sometimes are found along the edges of reservoirs. For me, no ocean means no beach. I had to make do with the shade of the mulberry tree, but squawking blue jays are no substitute for the sound of waves.

I think I'll have a bottle of Sierra Nevada Summerfest and feel sorry for myself for not having an ocean to call my own.