Aside from the olfactory foreshadowing of Hell, it's another nice night, following another nice day. Spring cumulus persist, making me crave something topped with mounds of whipped cream, and the jasmine scent is (when not obscured by misbegotten chemical reactions) increasing. I was startled by a hummingbird while lazing in the afternoon sunlight, but for some reason there was not a single bee in sight the whole hour I was out. Maybe they've nothing to pollinate at the moment. Me neither.
1927–2008
