Wednesday, July 2, 2025, 64.2* 0612, 92% Humidity
It seemed a flashlight shone on windows; perhaps a flood light or head lights staying longer than the short time lightning would have lit them. Ruger casts long shadows walking through the light shining from the refrigerator ice maker; it will diminish when I replace the water filter.
What triggered the sensor light in the bathroom more than once? Perhaps the power was off, came on again, or the generator started, stopped. Comfortable, not sleeping, wide awake, no desire to investigate I kept watching. The three slept quietly. Awakened at 11:31 by the sound of rocks pouring through the AC hose mounted in the bedroom window I thought that was the end of sleep. I didn’t get up. Again, I watched the lights, the dark.
Not quite 5 (I checked the clock), as if his presence was enough to wake me, Ruger sat by my door willing me to rise. How attuned we are to dark to light to the presence of others. Outside, a blanket too tight for even shallow breathing, 4 birds sing. Something swims in the pond. Soleil lights the mist in greeting.
We have come half-way through 2025.
Photo: LJ Austin
