It feels as though everything these days requires a subscription. We no longer buy things. We pay for access. I think if they could figure out how to do that with clothes and groceries they would. You can get in for free to the necessities section of the grocery with in-app purchases. Pay a monthly fee for access to the larger selection store. Buy the premium service and you can get the best cuts of meat. It’s probably a model under construction somewhere. Or maybe it’s Costco and Sam’s.

Fell into the data center rabbit hole after my recent drive through Bosque County. I was enjoying the scenery when a big sign for data center careers caught my eye. I thought, one must be nearby. And sure enough there it was. So, I took a picture and went looking to see what was up. I discovered the site is being built by a company named CyrusOne which is owned by Kohlberg Kravis Roberts (KKR) and Global Infrastructure Partners (GIP), a wholly owned subsidiary of Blackrock. Ultimately the site, a hyperscale data center, will cover nearly 17 acres.

Sometimes you have to take the long way round. Yesterday, I did just that. I was returning from Dallas, heading home. It was early. The roads were clear. GPS had me on I35. But I stopped just outside Waco at the Hill Country safety rest area and reconsidered. What was the rush? So, just up the road I turned right on a country road and headed west, making my way to Highway 281 and home.

We had a taste of rain last night. I could hear it fall. I even went outside to listen. That’s a nice thing about porches. You can stand outside in the rain. It’s especially nice when the rain is gentle, tapping on the tin roof, bringing up all the earthy smells, and washing dust off the leaves. More rain is promised today. Of course, there’s no one to hold to the promise. It’s more like a systemic probability.

The second part of my two part effort at self-healing takes place today. I started with the mind. Now, it’s the body’s turn. I’m seeing a physical therapist to if I can get what’s left of my body back into some sort of working shape. This comes to me courtesy of a friend who read my recent post about balance issues. He put me in touch with his daughter (a physical therapist), who gave me local references.

Started on a journey yesterday. Personal. Met with a counselor. Every once in a while, I just need someone to talk to. A way to hand off the baggage or maybe get some help. Friends are good, but friends usually have their own problems and shuffling mine onto their shoulders is sometimes an ask too far. So, I opted for professional help after finding myself mired in a miasma of inaction.

It’s a cool summer morning in the hill country. The cats are fed, and I’m giving the trees a quick drink. We’re in a heat wave and the ground is fast losing water. Plants and grasses are drying up, almost everything is brown. I don’t know when we’re expected to turn the corner, but I hope it’s sooner rather than later. Although, two years of big spring rains have left the lakes full and the rivers running. So, all is not lost.

Almost everyone I know is using AI because, truth be told, it’s fun. Suddenly, if you’re a fan of Star Trek: Next Generation, we’ve all got a computer version of Data, a sentient android, or Tony Stark’s Jarvis. It’s comfortable and fun because, as the conversations progress, it’s easy to feel as though a human, who knows a lot, is talking back to you. And if you’re looking for a term for that feeling, it’s anthropomorphize. It’s important to remember, however, that it’s only software and it’s far from flawless. But, that being said, I think it’s here to stay.

There are times in my gardens when I just let the plants do what the plants want to do, and this includes those plants we might call weeds. For instance, in the front yard by the big oaks, I’ve let the bindweed bind, and it’s traveled up into some low hanging branches on one of the big oaks. I actually think it looks good, which is a nice excuse for not pulling it down.

One of these days I might spend some time cataloging the spiders who call my place home. I saw a new one this morning on the screen door. One I’d never seen before, a crab spider, of the genus Xysticus. According to the Wikipedia page about them, they’re ambush hunters, which means no webs to grab me in the dark. I have no idea what he thought he might find on the screen, but I’m guessing he was going somewhere else and merely stopped to rest.

Power washed the porches yesterday. That was a loud, noisy mess. But now everything looks spic and span. The next step is to get on a ladder and clean off the remnants of the old swallow nests. Of course I’m not supposed to do ladders. So, maybe I should try the high-pressure nozzle on the washer. Or maybe I can use a brush on an extension. Or maybe doing nothing is a good option. I like having choices.

The hot summer mornings are upon us. Luckily, they didn’t come until August. Of course, they might now stay through October, but that’s a chance I’m willing to take as if I had anything to do with it. I suppose it’s worth noting that I’m back in the Hill Country where the humidity is a tad bit higher than it was on top of the Marathon uplift. Being nearly a mile high helps to keep things cool at night.

On our way to Marathon last week, we went via Del Rio. It wasn’t a straight-line trip, but there were sights to see, and we wanted to see them. First up was the Devil’s Sinkhole in Rocksprings followed by lunch in Del Rio. We didn’t actually see the sinkhole. But we picked up brochures at the visitor’s center. In Del Rio we ate lunch and checked out Lake Amistad. It’s big and low and needs a good flood to fill back up. Maybe the super El Niño will bring one. I’m sure the locals would be happy.

I took the road less traveled yesterday. On my way to Marathon, we drove down highway 90 from Del Rio. I should have some ancestral memory of this road. My father’s travels as a member of the US Navy took us back and forth between California and Virginia at least four times. I have one hazy memory of stopping in Langtry to visit Judge Roy Bean’s offices, but that’s it.

I’ve heard it said before that so and so lives in their own world. It’s a way of identifying the outlier, the odd man. But I’m beginning to think we all live in our own worlds. We pop into existence, try to learn how things work, then pop back out. It brings to mind the fable of the blind men describing an elephant by touch. That’s us when we’re alive, trying to make sense of the world. Someone sings a song. One person loves it. The other person hates it. In your own universe, it’s to each his own.

Well, I surrendered. I hired someone to clean my gutters. It felt the prudent thing to do. Granted, I can still hoist and climb my ladder, but the younger man did it with considerably more ease than I’ve managed lately, and certainly with less trepidation. I fought back the temptation to stand outside and watch him. Instead, I sat inside and listened to the banging. When it was all done, he sent me pictures of my nice clean gutters.

A group of old friends gathered at the house yesterday. We knew each other young, now we know each other old. Where once we would have danced all night this time we drank in measured quantities and floated in a pool. Sedate with quite music in the background. Conversation filled the air and clocks were watched to ensure everyone got home before dark. Periodically a swallow would drop by for a drink. That’s how quietly we sat.

It’s time to mow the tall grass on the back lots. In fact, I should have mowed it sooner, before it went to seed. Now it’s tall and brown, perfect fodder for fire. I need to knock it down, so that rain when it comes can help it begin to decompose and make its way back into the earth. And I want to expose the Bluebonnet seeds for next season. But mowing the tall grass is hot dusty work on a zero-turn mower. A tractor with a seat high above the fray would be better.

I have a nice flashlight that I can quickly shift from wide to narrow beam. I try to keep it handy for my nighttime forays into the yard at 3 a.m. looking for deer and varmints and anything else that might poke its head up. But I couldn’t find it last night, and I didn’t know why. It was a puzzle because there aren’t that many places where I leave it after my nighttime adventures. I went back to bed, a little sad.

Durn. An unexpected grayness has settled over me. I’m not sure what to make of it. As I said, it’s unexpected. I had what passes for a good night’s sleep. Most likely, it is a valley between the excitement of doing one thing and the coming of anticipation for the next. The existence of those twin peaks tends to make what comes between seem empty. Although, when I’m in a gray day it colors everything. So, it’s hard to tell. Sometimes it’s merely a day that sneaks up on me.