It’s 38, raining, and there’s a hurricane in the Gulf. Seems pretty normal for October.

Went to bed thinking I had a subject for today’s essay. Woke up with no subject in mind. That’s a little disconcerting.

I’m starting to enjoy my two-stage nightly sleep. Go to bed. Dump all the day’s troubles.

I found an arrowhead yesterday, in my front yard.

Inconsequential factoid. I slept in the center of the king bed last night on what shall now be known as the hill between the valleys of the two bodies.

Did something unusual yesterday. Met a stranger. Sight unseen.

I miss the body of my youth when I could fall into sleep and lie there insensible until I woke, fully rested.

An observation. At one point, following the death of my wife, I felt as though I was entering the third act of a three-act play…

A while back, I bought a couple of motion detection cameras. The purpose was to monitor my wife’s activities when she went outside to ensure she stayed safe.

One upside to this pandemic is how much time everyone is spending outside. It feels good.

Had company yesterday and dinner with friends last night. It was a good day.

Here we are. Another installment of the semi-examined life.

It was a dusty day yesterday. It looked as though gravity had failed…

The monastic life. At one point, I imagined, if I ever found myself without a wife and the kids were grown, that this might be an option.

Yesterday I was ruminating about the Greek alphabet.

There’s a golden glow over the pasture and the hills beyond. A light fog is lit by the morning sun.

I have a friend who plays tennis. She’s not playing to become the next Martina Navratilova.

I think the Victorians were on to something with all their etiquette surrounding death.

There’s something about sitting down to write my morning missive at 9:50 that seems decidedly wrong.

Here’s to cool mornings and warm days. They’re especially nice when they follow days of rain.