June 21, 2018

Solstice– an overcast, overheated, uncertain one. As I moved through the day there were squalls of rain here and there, but never enough to dampen the ground.

Mediocre performance at the studio this morning, though since then I had the thought that may turn the work to excellence. Did paint over outright bad pieces, so the level of the whole is raised. Steve grumpy, so no conversation coming or going.

Drove to Arden to retrieve my laundered (is that the right word?) rugs. When I picked them up to bring them into the house, my arms where they touched them broke out instantly in inflammation. So, I’m allergic to my own Persian carpets. I wonder if this has affected my health in general? That would have been a very expensive mistake.

The flowers of high summer don’t get exclaimed over like the flowers of spring, so let me remark upon the golden hollyhocks outside the fence, the spindly orange marigolds, the yellow calla lilies (why are they all yellow? Did I prefer that?) And of course the white and red and orange and golden roses, the pink and white sorrel.

My Origins of Fairyland class didn’t make, so I’m teaching Intro to Lit. Almost infinitely easier. . . .

Summer. . . .  Spring. . . too long. . . Gongula. . . .