It’s my birthday. Seventy-five. Three quarters of a century. I’ve seen a lot of history. Don Larsen threw a perfect game. Mays robbed Wertz. The Marines escaped Chosin.

I never expected to be well into July and hoping for a dry day. But I am. I walked out to feed the cats this morning, and there it was, drizzle.

There is probably of law of physics that speaks to the acceleration of a six year old boy as it relates to his physical proximity to the adult male charged with looking out for him.

This is nice. Children are in the house. Pallets are on the floor. Sleepers are all around.

Yesterday evening, as my day was winding down, I thought briefly about calling a friend. But I realized the hour was late and the call could wait.

I am suffering the torture of Sisyphus. My boulder is a love of technology combined with just enough brain power to get it to work.

No fireworks to speak of yesterday. Mostly I did the one thing I love to do. Read a book. Almost all day. A sort of fitting book for the Fourth, Freedom’s Forge by Arthur Herman. It’s the story of how American business mobilized to help win World War II. Great story.

Yesterday we got rain in the morning, rain in the afternoon, and a sauna in between. For a brief moment it felt like the Gulf Coast.

It’s raining on the Fourth of July and I saw a frog on my porch this morning. The latter jumped into the lavender. The former is simply falling all around.

Went with friends to visit my wife’s grave yesterday. We hung a little decorative pendant by the headstone. It was made by her Ya-Ya’s at their last gathering.

I spent most of the morning yesterday, in the battle with Khaki weed, on my knees, digging. I think we’re at the end game.

It’s an odd ritual, but before the lady comes to help clean my house, I clean my house.

I make mistakes. Lots of them. Some worse than others. I made a mistake when I planted the Morning Glory and the Texas Red Honeysuckle too close together on the back fence by the Eve’s Necklace and Mountain Laurel.

I was out on the deck yesterday when a little rain squall blew through. A bit of rain just for us. It fell hard, then stopped. Then started up again a few minutes later. Maybe it was two squalls.

When a good wind blows, the air around the house is full of crape myrtle blossoms, little bits, blown from the big trees.

Last year, today marked the 50th anniversary of my wedding. This year it’s just another day.

It’s a wonder what two inches of rain will do for a landscape. Everything softens. New leaves pop out of the trees. The grasses spring forth.

Had a dream about my wife and slept right through a thunderstorm last night. In fact, I thought the thunderstorm was part of the dream. Nothing but snippets left this morning.

The mesquite is in bloom. I wonder what sort of news that is in the insect kingdom?

I had a gloomy spell yesterday afternoon. I was driving through the countryside on the way to hear music, and it swept over me.