By most of the signs this could hardly be spring and yet, even dripping wet, the jasmine blossoms continue to perfume the air, the strong scent dispersing any images of winter as quickly as they enter my mind. It's like being trapped between seasons, unable to settle in either. My intent is now to choose a book and read myself into some place less ambiguous than the here and when.
Striped cat and her kittens have established their nightly claim on my back porch. My porch is Pwned! I only hope black and white kitty doesn't try to pay a visit there.
Rain again tomorrow they say, and chilly air. However strange this makes the time, the longer June puts summer off the better, says I.