September 23, 2016

Cool of evening. I spent the last hour watering slow, thorough, aiming the hose until pools gathered under the leaves, determined that if the sky was not going to do its duty I would. The swamp hibiscus had collapsed on the ground for lack of water. The small red one in front is lifting itself up even now. I expect that great white in back to be erect again by morning.
   
Wonderful reading last night in the Reuter’s Center, Wiley-organized. I wasn’t a fan of the book being read from, but I was of the great crowd gathered for the sake of literature,
   
Z claims to have held his breath four minutes this morning, based on exercises developed by a man called “The Ice Man,” because he can endure low temperatures and climb Everest in his shorts and the like. I don’t know that I need to hold my breath for four minutes, but there must be some general good to be derived from such an achievement.
   
The last sky behind a few bunched-up clouds is cruel and fiery azure.