My affection for barn swallows is diminishing in direct proportion to the number of active nests on our porches and in the garage. The number is currently seven. Sometimes I feel as though I’m living beneath a highway overpass.

From the beginning of our time together my wife and I were hand me down kids. If we could use it, and it was offered, we took it. Beds, tables, washing machines, all got second chances in our house.

The minutia of everyday life ate my day yesterday.

I skipped my morning essay yesterday because we left at 6:15 to go play golf. Nice time of day to do that. Got the round in under four hours, ate a nice lunch, and came on home.

I was standing outside yesterday evening around 10:25. No particular mission. I just like looking at the pasture at night. I walked over by the fence and path that runs into our back lots. As I stood there the area was lit from behind by a white light…

There’s a fresh coat of paint on the back door. Downing Straw by name. The exterior latex paint for our house. It looks fresh and inviting. Going forward, I will endeavor to keep it fresh and inviting.

A brief laugh at yourself story. Last night as I prepared for bed, I heard what I thought was a soft barking sound, maybe a distress call from some unidentified animal.

About a month back I ran into a rock. A flying rock. A rock of indeterminate size. It whacked my windshield. At home, I looked for a sign of impact. Found none.

We moved into our house in December 2009. It was brand new. Now, nearly 13 years later it’s starting to look a little frayed around the edges.

I long ago quite watching my emails as though I was getting nuggets of gold. Mostly, I was getting told about things I needed to do. When I retired that stopped.

Well, I’m back at it. More music yesterday plus a doctor visit for an unexplained pain, which got explained and at least it’s nothing serious. The music was in a hot hall, and when I say hot, I mean hot as in oven hot.

After a day and night of music on Saturday, I took Sunday off. Slept in. Didn’t write. It felt good. I used to take the entire weekend off. I may go back to that.

I fell into a book yesterday and didn’t come out until dark. What an unexpected pleasure. I guess I should have suspected as much, however. It’s a science fiction book, set way in the future, about a library that deals with all the interstellar alien messages SETI has received.

God bless the afternoon thunderstorm. I have no idea where they’re getting the energy to fire up, given how dry it’s been, but they’re firing up. Yesterday, I got a tenth of an inch on the homestead.

I slept right through my alarm this morning. It seems an odd thing for a retired guy to say, but it’s true. I set my alarm for 5:30 because I enjoy the morning. The dark then the light.

I sure have dreamed a lot lately. Usually, they happen in the second half of my nightly sleep, the part that comes after I wake in the middle of the night. I don’t recall dreaming this much in the past.

Good morning. I had good day yesterday. Over the course of the day my spirits steadily rose. Good old Facebook contributed its avalanche of birthday greetings.

I was going to give myself the day off for my birthday. So, I slept in, loitering beneath the warm sheets. Then I got up, made a cup of coffee, and the next thing you know I’m sitting here in front of the computer, trying not to slouch, and starting to write.

Well, well, well. My little town of Johnson City has an upgrade. Highway 290, as it travels about five blocks through the city, now has a turn lane. Big improvement.

As I rode to the doctor’s office the other day for my post-cataract surgery visit, I sat in the passenger seat and looked at the face of my friend Larry.