Sunday, June 22, 2025, 60.2*, 0802 Raining
I chose the sunny cup confident that I had before bed put coffee in the filter as usual. Apparently not, the grounds were wet. I mused to the three that perhaps someone came in for a cup while we were sleeping.
Grass that grows on the other side is looking wild; no pushing a mower over that three-foot piece between fence and falling into boulders. Among the blades of green, at least three luscious purple heads of clover.
Red patches centered in yellow march across the Surry radar portending thunder, divining lightning. Mariah plays gently with leaves. Eight birds, not heard for a while, continue singing.
Before I open my eyes, I begin writing.
Photo: LJ Austin
