by dishpantheism

went for a drive. saw deer every few miles. saw my first tarantulas of the season too. the sun was low on the horizon and made them look like velvet-y gloves. i remembered i had my camera but by then magic hour was fading. i chased it over mountains and tho i was able to enjoy the lovely colors i was unable to capture them. too swift for me. the poison oak has gone very red. airy pink buckwheat hems in the pastures now. rusty red dock and chartreuse tarweed. heathered colors. a bit of smoke in the sky.

a new bridge has been built parallel to the old one but about 200 feet downriver. it feels so strange to drive there. i have crossed over the verdigrised bridge my whole life and now there’s one of concrete by its side. reality bifurcated. the old bridge is visible remnant of an invisible world. or maybe i’m making too much of it. quite probably.

drove to the coast last night. met some nice folks. sand in my moccasins. i am a great one for promptly sticking my foot in my mouth the moment i open it. and there is the secret to why it often remains closed. i don’t taste grit today so maybe last night i escaped my usual fate.

letters to birds. some light reading. two loaves of banana bread in the oven. now to tackle something medieval. i don’t look forward to it. but them’s the breaks.