To be matter of fact about the world is to blunder into fantasy and dull fantasy at that as the real world is strange and wonderful. — Robert A. Heinlein
This morning started out with a rather non-productive commute:
Lunch was good:
And I went grocery shopping on my way home tonight:
Then I started to head out to the mailbox with tonight’s postcard when I suddenly realized – tomorrow’s Sunday, nitwit! no mail! – so I laughed despite the sadness of no mail tomorrow (I’ve only gotten two postcards so far) all the way back upstairs with my postcard. Two will go out on Monday.
Looking up, during
the mailbox run by moonlight,
at the moon and clouds.
I could drive to some place where there’s a clear view of the moon coming up but I enjoy watching all kinds of moons come up over the hill opposite my house. Yes, it’s a tree-covered hill and yes there are some wires too but it’s my daily view. And although I never expect great photos, I did like the sort of fringe-y look the combination caused.
I forgot to post that my first two postcards arrived in the past week:
This morning I was stopped at the bridge-under-construction just long enough to take this grab shot of the loosestrife along the road.
And today’s lunch:
I’m enjoying my nightly jaunts to the mailbox with the outgoing postcard, often around midnight. Tonight the air outside was so much cooler than it is inside the house and the dew was already heavy on the grass. The moon is full tomorrow and was very bright.
Seems very much part of the ritual: put the words on the postcard, then the address, then the stamp, then go downstairs and scan front and back and name the files by number of the day and the surname of the recipient. Then, out to the mailbox and put the card in the box and the flag up. Go to sleep.
The impersonal hand of government can never replace the helping hand of a neighbor.
