Lots of life is gathering with literally no time to write. I'm resigned to wait, knowing come fall the house will be empty, the gardens won't need me, and I'll have more time than I know what to do with.
In the meantime:
My grandmother is wrapping up her final couple of days on earth. Years ago when she lived with us, she surreptiously snuck in dozens of flowers into my flower beds. She always was one to finagle her way. She's mostly comatose now, but Jojo visited and played some uke tunes for her last night. Safe passage, Gram.
We finished the firepit for Jojo's grad party last weekend and gave it a test run. I think it's pretty good to go. The grass surrounding it probably won't be growing too well by then, though.
I'm working on a 3000-page double homicide -- good stuff -- along with a ton of other work. I guess the trip to CA will be plenty paid for.
I dreamed of two owls last night, a brown one and a black one, both sitting on the road.
A black squirrel came to our birdfeeder yesterday and a yellow-bellied sapsucker. Unusual day. I've never seen the black squirrel in our neighborhood before. It was a young one with a glossy coat and tinges of red in its tail.
And that's the news.