I am sitting on my back porch, which I had a hand in building. My dog is here as well, and I am having a drink. Brutus (the dog) is usually noisy and mobile, but at the moment he has settled in and is doing little else but observing.
We just watched the sun go down. Because it isn’t all the way gone, the sky is a riot of pink and purple pastels.
There is something very nice about all of this.
It sounds very kitsch to write something like, “Next week I turn another year older, and I am just now learning to appreciate things like this, and I am glad for it.” It sounds kitsch, but it is what I want to write.
The early-bird summer bugs have begun to sing their songs. I am facing west and they sound like they are all behind me.