At last we have had a relatively mild day, and another is due tomorrow. All afternoon the sky wore shreds of indistinct clouds, but they cleared with the arrival of evening. The waxing crescent moon settled westward to silhouette the pines while the cicadas set the dry brush buzzing. Though the air is still, the cool night hints of approaching autumn. I want to hear water falling on the leaves and smell the damp soil, but no rain is due. Just as well, I suppose. The roof above my room remains un-patched, and when rain does come I'll be watching for leaks. But summer being gone— in that I can find delight, rain or not.