Sunday, November 13, 2022

The puddles are drying leaving damp mud.  The crows walk the neighborhood streets and yards, avoiding the damp mud. The crows do not respond to the barking dogs. I sit in the pale sun warming my clothes and doing my daily chair exercises.

I am engrossed in the new Ann Cleeves mystery novel, THE RISING TIDE, a Vera Stanhope novel.  I enjoy reading a book in a familiar format by a good writer and I am overwhelmed by the stack of unread library book and the stack of bought books.

Went to sleep to the murmurings of the sea lions in the distance and woke up at dawn to the sound of amplified human voices.  Couldn’t make out the words. Was it the police, or the army, was there danger?  Slowly I realized it was the half marathon race today in Monterey.

I am settling into my present home bound life. I am not in pain and mostly not bored. In spite of the epidemic crises and my own illness, I still feel alive and curious.