rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Quickly

Reading little, commenting less, posting hardly at all. Sluggo's little brain is dizzy from the heat, and it isn't all that hot yet. Summer is going to be Hell. Today was actually quite pleasant, for humans and kitties and birds and such. A few diminutive cumulus clouds hovered over the mountains, and the rest of the sky was a blue backdrop for the countless shades of green and the flourishes of dogwood blossoms our belated spring has brought. In one field, around a stand of young pines, I found a bed of ferns, rare in these parts. Springtime here is usually to dry for them, and winter is too cold. I don't know how long it will be before they are concealed by the burgeoning growth of mustard and wild oats that will soon dominate the field. While they last, it is pleasant to watch them softly rippling in the afternoon breezes.

The moon is now bright, and the night air smells of plants which have been heated -- a dense, vegetable smell. slightly suggestive of decay. I fear that the spring will be brief. Many plants which ought to have bloomed failed to do so, because of the bouts of cold with which April was plagued. But the hardier plants are now making up for lost time, rushing into blossom all at once, as though they had to get through the entire season in a few days. They probably do.

Tomorrow night, the lunar eclipse. The sky is perfectly clear tonight. I hope it holds.
Subscribe

  • 52/60-61: Things Fall Apart

    Getting lost in time again, distracted and muddled, and realized I never wrote about Monday. I had been unable to have groceries fetched before the…

  • 52/59: Sizzle, no Steak

    So Sunday brought some rain, and now and then some wind, and for me some sleep again. No one was about, or I saw none, and after all the hours no…

  • 52/58: Norm!

    Friday was devoured, leaving no trace. Thursday night I slept surprisingly well, and when morning came I was repeatedly lured back to sleep by the…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 0 comments