It’s been a wild, hot, and anxious month. On this last day of June, we walked north to the headland and then south to the creek. As we approached our southern goal, Gary pointed ahead. “There’s Tammy,” he said. “She’s waving.” He waved back.
“Where?” I said.
It turned out to be a whirligig he was waving at, and we both laughed. “Don’t tell Tammy,” Gary said. But you know I can’t keep a secret.
My intention has been to post on days of the month that are multiples of five: fifth, tenth, fifteenth, etc. Today is not on my schedule. But this morning I had a distressing experience.
So first a beautiful photo, and then the rant, in case you are interested. No dogs were harmed . . .
When our firstborn boys were tiny, a friend in a community just fifteen miles or so north of us used to call me every morning to ask if we had fog. I would look west to the roll of clouds lying on the horizon over the water and admit we didn’t. have fog Then, between puffs on her cigarette, she would complain about the fog. She lives in the high desert now where it gets hot in summers and icy and snowy in winter but is sunny nearly every day. If I lived there I would surely complain about the heat and cold, but that’s why I chose a climate I enjoy.
The first years we lived here, we did not see them at all. Perhaps we failed to pay attention when our sons were small, or perhaps they either flew right past or never came close enough to visit for long. Then in the ’90s, fourteen pelicans arrived one August and stayed in the area until the weather changed. Since then we have seen pelicans every summer. Often there have been fourteen.
Gary is downstairs talking to our friend Jim. They are discussing the elevated consciousness of a character in Moby Dick. It’s been a long time since I read that novel and I did not love it.
I have left them alone to figure out their meal. There is good homemade chili in the fridge, sourdough bread, cheeses, sauced rice, and fixings for all sorts of food. I will make waffles for breakfast before Jim leaves us and we head off to return samples to Portland.
Every morning there is something to see.
Yeah, this isn’t working for me. I will apologize now for sending two posts in one day. I wish WordPress would not change things. I realize they are trying to make the site more flexible and attractive, but mostly I just want simple. Having to relearn how to do things, even when desirable features are added, is not helpful. Maybe the problem is my operating system (it doesn’t like Macs?) or my browser (Safari), but failing to work properly with whatever the user has chosen is not helpful. So the dark box is somehow related to adding photos. Why?
Here we are.
I finally upgraded my account and paid for service, but everything is weird, changed, and I might just call this done. I have no idea why blackish blocks appear on my editing screen below. Asking questions has not helped. And a “Happiness Engineer” reaches out to help—got to be kidding. I do not want my “free domain name” that I would then have to pay for next year. Everything suddenly works differently. Again.
I just wanted to post a couple of photos and write about how today is a day Gary acknowledges every year: June 5, 1969 he flunked his draft physical.
We took some stunning photos, but you will have to be content with a view of the Cape, a sand castle, and the back of a new sweater. This is nothing more here.
Beach paths through the rocks and sand castles.
The back of a new sweater I am knitting for myself, pinned out for blacking. The single-ply hand-dyed wool is from South Africa. The silk/mohair I am carrying along with it is from a Portland company. I already have the front cast on.
&PRIDE Press 