Some slight haze today
yet there is blue sky above. The usual birds are singing, etc. The day is poised like a weight waiting to drop.
I have proofread my book about a particular place, with corrections sent back to the publisher. That place is Curlew, Iowa; it still resonates in everything I am.
I have been reading the scientists about place, place attachment, and so on. I am glad they are giving the notion some scientific attention, but my first reaction is that they take the fun and loveliness out of it right away. I don't think you need to do that - I think the best science still has the poetry left in it. I wish they'd leave the poetry in.
There are still geese in our skies; I hear some as I walk to the car. They are honking off behind the house somewhere to the west; I cannot see them. Of course we do not see so many geese as we did earlier in the spring. Whatever fuse drives them has driven them farther to the north, most of them.
Algae has formed on the pond already; that will make the King of Fairwater unhappy. What makes a king unhappy gladdens me.
The irrigation rig just north of where the hawk tree stood, the rig looks like it is operational now. Though I have yet to see a drop of water run though it, admittedly. Like the day, it's ready.