I miss my camera. Camera's broken.
I want to get out into the woods and take some pics of the quiet moss and the wild, tattered clouds above the clinging roots and tree lines of the dunes.
There was a clear, dark sky last night, so dark and clear I could easily identify the Milky Way, and the four of us looked up and smelled the night air and listened to the crickets and looked for many little dippers in the stars, and bigger dippers, and dippers of all sorts.
My acorn squash in my garden are peeking out from under the wide squash leaves, like green Easter eggs. I like to count them. 12 so far. But maybe 15.
The sky has been a welcoming gray, lately, with a lower, darker set of clouds along the horizon moving quickly against a brighter, textured sky. And I like that. Blue skies are overrated.
My wood pile has languished in the hot summer, and the cooling weather has me thinking axeward again. I've got a pile of work and splitting ahead of me, and I only lament that some chipmonks may at this point call my woodpile Home, though they appear to be making holes and peeling out seeds from the fallen pine cones...likely prepping to burrow into the ground for the winter. So maybe the wood pile is chipmonk free.
Right now I'm in a post thunderstorm peace, listening to the many levels of insect song, and an ongoing hush and roar from the lake, and smelling newly energized soil and water.