It’s cool this morning. It feels like spring. The air is fresh and clear. There’s still a hint of moisture from the days of rain. There’s a breeze, too. New green sprouts cover almost everything in the garden.

Sometimes, things just click and go your way. The other day I thought my money clip lost. I checked pockets. I checked dressers. I checked tables. Time passed. Then it came to me. A thought. I went to the car. Opened the center console. There it was.

I’m halfway to healing. My hand is on the mend. It’s been a week. I took my last antibiotic this morning. The squamous cell carcinoma is gone. In another week I’ll get the stitches out.

I have birds. Little ones. At the feeder. Taking a bite. Flying off to eat. Black-crested Titmouse. Carolina Wren. Female goldfinch. Cardinals.

It’s done. Our day of music is in the books. We set up the gear beneath the shelter of a large outdoor pavilion, but pounding rain on a metal roof plays to a louder beat than even the most well amplified guitar.

I’m in the country in a very fine house and it’s raining to beat the band. Seriously, the heavens have opened up and are trying to dump all the water in the world right on top of us.

Bought a new bird feeder. It’s designed to defeat house sparrows and squirrels. The food in the new feeder sits in a tube surrounded by wire mesh that slides down when something heavy hangs on it.

Two days in on my hand surgery and I’m feeling a little down, mainly kicking myself for not doing it sooner, made worse by having to do everything left-handed.

The year of the medical procedure continues. Skin surgery. I had a squamous cell carcinoma removed from the back of my right hand yesterday.

For the longest time I had two easy chairs sitting side by side facing the TV. It was how we organized the living room when we moved into our new home.

Good morning. The house is quiet. The kids are all asleep. Dad should still be asleep as well, but sunlit windows tell dads brain the day has started and what in the world are you doing in bed.

No sooner did I speak of it than it happened. The rock rose bloomed. Once upon a time it was ensconced beneath a young crape myrtle growing in a tiny little garden spot by the front porch.

I’m a sucker for blooms. Big, small, in between. It makes no difference. I love flowers.

Life. A tenacious beast. Last week I watched a turtle lay eggs in a field along a fairway on a golf course. She was pretty exposed, but there was a fence so I’m guessing it would have been hard to really disturb her.

Good morning from the dark side of dawn. I’ve missed two days.

Went to a garage sale yesterday. My daughter came home from work with the kids and off we went. It was just a short walk down the street.

I’m floating. Doing duty in Houston this weekend. Came in for my regular dental appointment staying to be with the grand-kids. I’m also going to get my cracked windshield replaced. This is the second time in two years.

Take note. I’ve started my Christmas shopping. It began at Trade Days, when I realized I had found a goldmine of fine, odd gifts.

Yesterday, in my blog, I mentioned that we all worked for giant social media companies for free, generating streams of data they then use to sell us stuff.

And the week begins, although it really started yesterday, because Sunday is the first day of the week. But most of us these days think of weeks in terms of work, and this is the first workday.