Went to watch the sky yesterday in the hills just south of town. It was mostly blue with scattered clouds.

We landed last night, and I made my way home. It was nice to sleep in my own bed.

Captain’s Log, Stardate 2022.2.7 Homeward bound. Slowly. Made it to Alamosa. More music.

The winter gardening has commenced. Bags of mulch line the back porch ready to create the world’s largest cat box.

I have four cats. They’re all feral. They’re all sterile. As in fixed, spayed, neutered.

The other evening, on the first day of the most recent cold snap, the day of our wintery mix, I woke, as I often do, in the middle of the night.

I saw a cloud Friday evening. It had the shape of a leaf, standing on end. I could see veins and the midrib.

I walk some ground, look at the trees, and everything seems at ease.

A cruise onto the morning porch reveals a light, soft fog over the pasture, a refreshing chill in the air, and that’s about it.

45. The temperature this morning at my house. This seems right. Winter is coming. To Texas. It feels good.

Our little compound is fairly resistant to deer. It’s a combination of fences, vegetation, and location. We get occasional visitors, but little of our plant life is conducive to nibbling so off they go.

Home, again. Home, again. It feels good.

This past spring, I added a Gregg’s Mist flower to my plant collection. It’s done well. So, has the garden spider.

A midnight storm woke me up. Lightning crashed and thunder rolled. But like a passing goodbye kiss or a quick hug, it was gone before I knew it.

It’s always interesting to put new plants in the ground and see how they do.

Pretty and pink pretty much describes the current state of my gardens.

The nice thing about tile floors is they allow you quickly to stomp a scorpion when one makes it into the house.

It’s been a good summer for our pink turks caps. Actually, it’s been a good summer for everything.

And I wonder, if I only had one job to do in this life, that maybe planting one tree was a good thing to have accomplished. No one will write a story about me, but the world will know, or at least this part of it.

I use a turning fork when I work in the garden and the lawns. It’s better than a shovel or a spade.