Weather, Or Not

Now the nights are so brief, their endings take me by surprise. All the things of which I failed to take sufficient notice! Here are the trees again, so lately massed shadow. Here are distinct flowers that were no more than pale flickers of reflected moonlight an hour ago. Here is the everyday lawn, that seemed a brocade robe of darkness and light strewn carelessly on the ground. Everything emerges with the commonplace sky of a summer morning. Screeching crows and jays anticipate the coming of the harsh light, and the moon fades. The owls have gone. Time to close the drapes.

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So I'm bitching about it on LJ.

It's the one north of Lake Tahoe.

Four hours of sleep leaves me confused.

I'm quite annoyed that here are no casabas in the markets yet this year. They have all manner of exotic melons, but no casabas. I wonder if the year's strange weather has something to do with it?

Oh, rats! Nine o'clock already? Every time I turn this machine on, another hour mysteriously vanishes from my day. It's haunted!