There were a few clouds this morning, but they soon cleared leaving blank blue sky. Now a few cirrus clouds are forming, and they might thicken before nightfall so I probably have only a couple of hours remaining to get the house up the the 70 degrees I'm hoping for. Right now it's only 68. I might turn on the HVAC fan to bring a bit more warmth in, though I am enjoying the quiet right now. Well, the near quiet, as the dogs across the street have been doing a lot of barking, and some blue jays keep coming around to squawk. Thankfully, the high-pitched whine of the small crickets is still a few hours off.
For lunch I devoured the third quarter of what will probably be my last watermelon of the season. As far as the stores go, watermelon season now lasts all year, but I still have that notion in my head that watermelons belong to summer, and that once the days grow shorter and cooler watermelon is inappropriate. I might still pick up a cantaloupe or two this month, but it is in September that I begin to think of pears and persimmons and baked apples. The persimmons won't show up until October, but something about that touch of crispness in the evening air brings them to my mind in September. I'll have to be patient. The pears and apples I can buy right now.
It is pleasing to me that for several days I have heard no mention of a certain event that won't take place until a year from November. I have accomplished this partly by not watching any of the television channels that are obsessed with this distant event, but also by spending minimal time at that web site called F___b**k. If anyone has been posting about that event there of late I've missed it, but I am hopeful that everybody is already burned out on it and it won't get mentioned again until the monotonous days of winter set in and people, trapped indoors, have far too much time on their hands. Idle minds, after all, are the
Oh, it is so nice out I must leave this machine and enjoy the remaining afternoon in its natural element. The dogs have ceased their yapping and the jays their screeching, so I've got a window of serene opportunity before the crickets fire up their abrasive little legs.