Sunday, August 9, 2026, 64.9* F, 92% RH, 0607
Fog drapes like sheer fabric. No sound. No sun. No moon. No birds sitting on the fence. I walk down the ramp with the three leaving the door open. Perhaps the deer flies have lost their way. Nothing bothers us. His transplanted apple tree has brown leaves. The stream is muddy in one place; as if something has been digging. A slug looks out of place on vinyl siding. How did he get almost to a window? A spider web spans half a flowerpot catching dew. Ruger sleeps blocking my path to reheat coffee. I don’t disturb him.
It is best to drink cold coffee than to wake a sleeping dog or lose my balance stepping over him.
Photo: LJ Austin
