I like the digital world, particularly as it relates to medicine. I can make appointments, ask questions, get reminders, basically stay in touch. Where it falls a little short, oddly enough, is when it gives me access to my reports for blood work, scans, MRI’s, and sonograms.

We’re having a hill country summer. There’s rain to keep things growing, and the summer heat is bearable. Unfortunately, the lakes and rivers are too low and too dry. But it’s still nice to be able to go outside.

As I stood by the front room window this morning, looking out onto the pasture, a fox popped up from beneath the sumacs. He trotted along into the back porch garden, paused to mark scent on a big rock by the rosemary and continued on his way.

Went outside this morning looking for inspiration. Found none. The air was cool, the plants looking healthy, but nothing rang my bell.

This is one of those days when words fail me. I’ve just had my 78th birthday and I’m on my fifth assassination or assassination attempt of a US president or candidate for president, and all of those happened in the last sixty years of my life.

Yesterday was a day of relatively mindless work no one will ever notice, except me. I weeded the platform behind the garage where I keep the trash cans and a rainwater collection tank.

There’s a lot of mourning going on these days. People I know are passing left and right. The old crowd is getting smaller. Inevitable but still distressing.

Another birthday is in the books. It was sweet. Got calls from the kids early and friends as well. Plus, good old Facebook chipped in. More than 100 people sent me greetings.

I will admit. I am a fan of feng shui. Thus, the drive to our home curves in front of the house, and the path to our front door is clear and uncluttered.

Death came knocking beneath the trees. I was on my way to the workroom yesterday when I interrupted a gathering of buzzards at their meal between the north fence and the big oaks and the sage.

Nuts. It looks as though Beryl is going to drop it’s rain on east Texas. Bad news for the Highland Lakes. Of course, now I have to worry about my kids in the greater Houston area. But that’s what dad’s do, worry about their kids.

It’s warm and humid this morning with fog sitting on the far hills drifting down to touch the trees in the back pasture. No bird sounds to speak of, and the highway hum is low.

It’s a nice day in the neighborhood. The morning air is cool. The bees are buzzing, the birds chirping, and the mosquitos are looking for blood.

I did some wash yesterday and discovered two more pennies. So, here’s another two cents worth of my thoughts and questions on a subject that interests me…

Happy Independence Day. I have two cents worth of thoughts and I’m going to take advantage of my first amendment right to free speech and give them to you.

Just bought a copy of Barbara Tuckman’s book, the Guns of August. I dropped off some clothes at St. Vincent DePaul in Fredericksburg. Bought the book for a dollar while I was in the store.

I have to confess. My daughter and her husband leaving Texas with their family is causing me a bit of distress.

My little pink flower got me thinking the other day. Not always a good thing but sometimes something comes of it. So, let’s try this. It’s about sharing.

At the base of the big crape myrtle is a flower bed that once was full. That was when the tree was tiny. There was turks caps, salvia greggi, and rock roses. They were abundant. Then the tree grew large.

I went to a memorial service yesterday for a man I barely knew. We had a casual relationship; it was centered around a musician we favored.