were in the 80s across the state except in Superior where it was 46. You'd call that locally-heavy coolness.
It's a grey morning.
I saw a wood duck land at a lower hole in the same silver maple I'd seen the wood ducks in earlier. Now - is that two nests, or did one pair of birds change locations? Shall I ever know, and will it matter to the birds? Not one twit.
Two daffodils along the garage.
A spit of rain during the night - beads of it on the windshield. Every bird calls out this morning. A jet rumbles overhead.
Today is "bulky article pick-up" day in Fairwater and the village looks like a garbage dump all along the curbs. Everything is stacked up in a state of abandonment; residents have given up on these items,and resist owning them any longer.
A shurrr of tires on the wet asphalt as I head north out of town. Sound and sun.
It smells like a morning in June - that humus of earth and moisture and greenness.
On a street in Ripon, a shine of blindness where the sun hits a slick of moisture. I drive through it, beyond it; we all do. Every day we go beyond mere reflection into the realness of what is more than image.