Monday, August 11, 2025, 61.7*, 84% RH, 0615
Sounded like more than two voices this morning. The Cedar Waxwing and Red-eyed Vireo were quite vocal. Open areas of the house cool nicely the rest not at all. Zsolt laid in front of the fan I stood in his doorway.
Solar flowers cast their light on my ceiling reminding me of recent changes, comforting. I slept until 12:30 when my brain wanted to write poetry, trying out phrases several ways, phrases about sleeping in the heat. I thought I would have to get up, write the poem. I finally fell back to sleep.
Like someone turned a radio on, “What’s Going On” kept playing. I recognized the tune, not the words except these three which turned out to be the title sung by “4 Non Blondes.” I can’t recall when I last heard this, it would not have been by choice. In the same way, it was not a peaceful awakening when dad played the John Philip Sousa Marching Band album full blast to wake up his three bugs one morning (that's what he lovingly called us). I can’t remember what was so important. Mom, not a morning person, I wish I remembered how she reacted.
Sleep turns pages of our mind to awaken us.
Photo: LJ Austin
