1. Yesterday was the summer solstice. I don’t cling to it the way I cling to the winter solstice — the day the light begins to return — but I appreciate it. And we are certainly having a summer solstice. It is hot, deeply humid, with sporadic storms out of nowhere. The neighborhood is redolent with life, with plants and greenery and insects and birds and mammals.
I love that, if you Google Earth my neighborhood, it’s a forest. I live in a habit zone called urban forest, and you can really tell. A few days ago the neighborhood flock of wild turkeys — eight chicks! — were in our yard. We have foxes, opossums, and raccoons galore. The birders in the neighborhood are constantly spotting things that Ought To Live Up North.
The only downside to this, and to it being the summer solstice, is that the neighborhood birds wake up at 3:45 in the morning. Right outside my window.
2. J is on a HUGE tear of reading Sherlock fic. When she finds something she considers especially appalling or incomprehensible, she sends the link to me.
I will spare you all the results.
3. Our backyard neighbor is dying of stomach cancer. He’s at home, his wife is caring for him, and it’s all very sad.
4. I’m still sick, and haven’t the brains to be interesting. Moreover, when I’m sick I Hate Everything. The combination of the two moods means I largely stay off the internet. I don’t have anything good to contribute, and all I want to do is shriek at perfectly blameless people who are irritating me. Since many of these people are my friends, and since I know it’s not them, it’s me, I stay away and read books.
5. I’m up to book eight of the Phryne Fisher mysteries.
.
.
Filed under: Autobiography Tagged: | phryne fisher, sherlock, sick
