June 27, 2017

Woke urgently sick, which has continued if diminished through the day. I blame the great quantity of carrots eaten just before bed.

Great day in the garden. Weeded easily half of what needed weeding, and sufficiently mulched about a third of that. Bought three plants to fill in spaces in the back garden. Wrote well at High Five. My white crape myrtle is in bloom, the one at the café I love to sit under and write. Trevor left employment at the café the minute I learned his name. Looked at old fragments of plays, seeing if I could resurrect any of them. There’s some mighty fine writing wasted.