Mild

I find that I'm firing up the computer later and later these days. The afternoons are still devoted to sorting the everlasting stream of stuff the house holds (I'm convinced that parts of this house extend into other dimensions. Nothing else can account for the volume of stuff in here.) The last few evening have been much too nice to spend indoors staring at a screen. The air is scented with spurge laurel, the frogs are singing, and the cerulean sky slowly darkens to reveal Orion at his zenith. I watch him move toward the pines for a while, then go inside to look at the Internets, which suddenly seem very small.