January 7th, 2006



Soft rain fell for several hours, but the morning twilight is silent. Not for long, I'm sure. Even if no more rain comes, the woodpeckers will soon be up and chattering. I'd like to get to sleep, but the cat is curled up napping on the couch-state of the bed which pretends to be a couch while I'm awake, and I'd have to disturb her in order to return it to its bed-state. She looks so content lying there, I hate to wake her. Maybe I'll open a fresh can of kitty food to compensate her.

I used a new shampoo last night, as the one I've used for years is no longer available, and it has various herbs in it, including sage, and the scent of it being persistent, my head continues to smell a bit like the first stage of a vegetarian spaghetti sauce. I don't know if I can live with this shampoo. It's not as bad as those which are highly perfumed or which smell of rotting fruit, but it's still annoying. The old one had a nice, clean citrusy scent which faded fairly soon. I'd like to find something similar, but there are about 150 different kinds of shampoo in the local stores and so far none of those I've tried are comparable. Maybe I should just shave my head.

Wake up, Kitty!


Night alternately brightens and dims as the rushing, patchy clouds veil and unveil the high half moon. Silhouettes of naked trees score the lucent clouds and, like the intermittent shadows, grow distinct or vague in slow-motion flickers. Though the wind I hear in the treetops sounds cold, the air is but refreshingly cool, and barely stirs here below. The pavements, still wet from the day's rain, glimmer whenever the moonlight grows. Just as there are mild days with lingering evenings which redeem summer's extremes, this is such a night as compensates for winter's frequent harshness. I will return outside and enjoy it now.