Monday, August 4, 2025, 55.2*, 82% %H 0652
Moving fingers link to link, I keep one hand on the fence making way across the three-foot strip around the corner to blueberry bushes. I wonder how rational is a second gate opening into another falling into boulders space. In the distance two converse: Red-eyed Vireo, Hermit Thrush. Dew sits on the car. Soleil glitters bronze through leaves. Leaves of orange, leaves of red, leaves of purple spatter the canopy like an artist previewing fall, brush in hand to paint all green if dissatisfied.
Starlink confirms a support request I didn’t make. I am not building a tower. Agreed. Starlink for moments can’t grasp anything...the computer can’t find a site; the Smart TV presents a blank screen. For a few months, Starlink must continue to search through leaves to find sustenance in the heavens.
Seeing only black wings banded in white, Saturday I watched a ballet. Perhaps a wedding dance or some other ceremony. Perhaps the joy of being. They were common nighthawks, population decreasing.
No blueprints rolled out for Monday
(as complicated as a map I can’t read)
I follow light leaf and wing.
Photo: LJ Austin
