In Santa Barbara last week, I nearly froze from the morning fogs that can’t be kept out, can’t be avoided. I purchased an expensive sweater and wandered through Sid’s workshop in that and some thick ugly socks.
This evening, it’s 90°F here in the People’s Republic of Boulder Colorado and I am on the porch huddling in the shadows, writing. On the porch, I have a spacious view of the porches of the condo building on the other side of the alley from us. They watch us and we watch them.
The cat lady’s cat is out for its evening air and the couple directly across are having an involved conversation, but about what is impossible to tell because they’ve turned their couch so they’re facing away.
This is much better than being inside watching television (she tells herself as she stares into the laptop screen).
white pebble 