Things are changing. You might recall in 2023, after climbing to the top of Guadalupe peak and returning, I felt my life was entering a new period. I called it my Guadalupian Period, being as I’m a newborn fan of geology. And I was right.

I usually refer to my Barbados Cherry in the singular. But it is time to admit there is now more than one. In fact, I find it hard to really put a number on the number of plants that now comprise what I should rightly call my Barbados Cherry grove.

On my recent trip to South Dakota, I visited Wall Drugs and the Corn Palace. I expected kitsch. I got art and history. Nice surprises in both cases.

I remember when my daughter first went to visit Maine with her new husband. It was summer and Maine was beautiful, and she opined that they could live there. And her husband said, no, because of winter.

It used to be that only the wealthy could flee the seasons, and mostly it was summer. Houses in the Hamptons. Hotels in The Catskills. Mansions in Newport. Then came the car and a burgeoning middle class. And people started fleeing all the seasons.

I am back from the badlands, from the black hills, from the wide waters of the Missouri. I stood at the spot where Lewis and Clark first raised a US flag in the newly bought Louisiana Purchase.

My old roof is removed, and the new roof installed. There is still work to be done, but my house is dried in and safe from the elements.

Today, I get a new roof. Hail damaged my old one. The new one will be metal, as was the old. But a different style. Standing seam.

I feel as though this has been another year of living sickly.

On Wednesday of last week my intestinal system went on the fritz and became a water works.

It stormed at my house yesterday. Twice. The second time harder than the first. The rain was horizontal, flying along on the wind. There was a veritable river running down the dog run.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. It is oddly invigorating to dig, trim, and work with trees and plants. I did it again yesterday and I’ll do it again today.

I weeded in the garden yesterday. It was satisfying. I’ll do more today. The rains came. The dirt is soft. The air is cool as well, and that’s good, too. I’m in the mood. The mood. The garden mood.

We have red ants, the big ones. I’m sort of partial to them. They mostly mind their own business. They trundle around picking up seeds, carrying them back to the nest.

Yesterday I was looking at my life in terms of continental drift which seems pretty appropriate. Over the millennia of earths existence land masses have risen and fallen and crashed into one another. As they do they raise mountains and give birth to new seas as the oceans of the world slosh about.

It’s funny how life goes. How friendships ebb and flow. How jobs come and go. How time hurtles on and how time just creeps, ever so slow.

I’ve been having fun with spreadsheets. Actually, it’s only one spreadsheet. I decided a while back I needed to be in better touch with my finances.

Our forecast high today is 106 degrees Fahrenheit. That is entirely too hot for this neck of the woods. That’s Phoenix weather.

The swallows are in training for their flight home. They disappear during the day for long stretches, stretching their wings, building strength, getting the little ones ready.

It’s a lovely day in the neighborhood. We have clouds, which means the morning sun can give us a show, and it did so. I spooked a small herd of deer when I walked out my gate to get a better look.