Wednesday, August 14, 2013


Heed the thunder and listen to it sing, Wild Bill Hickok.

You should hear the thunder. Our house is silent otherwise as she reads and I type and now the lights flicker and the rain pounds hard against our roof. Our old cat cowers beneath my chair.

I thought about building another pot of coffee but I'm just too lazy to move, afraid I'll miss the show with the business of the measure and pour.

I like thunderstorms. There is something primaeval about storms that make me want to curl under a blanket and listen as the rain lulls me into sleep. Yet I settle comfortably in my chair satisfied with  book and hot drink.

The winds have increased and small limbs and pine cones fall and smack the roof followed by the deep boom of another clap and the grayish green lightning flashes and brightens our world. The cat whimpers.

The outside temperature has now dropped to seventy-five. God's air conditioner gives respite from this horrid heat. I said thank you.

Now if you'll excuse me I believe I shall pull up my foot stool and read to nature's music.



This heat is so very oppressive. It's currently (I just checked) 95 degrees in the shade. The shop's a/c runs continuously.

Ants have gathered in my head (restroom) and are each in turn bathing in my toilet. One seems to be holding an iced tea.

Excuse me, I've work to do and I need another cup of coffee.

Autumn should be here in just a few weeks. Hang on.

Oh, forgot - seems I've a new follower. Since I cannot find a name it's difficult to leave a proper thanks and welcome. You know who you, thanks. If you'll leave your name and/or blog, I'll respond.