September 8, 2018

Moderate success in the studio. Finished a major work, until I look at it again and see what must be redone. Tony came and not only mowed the lawn but filled up the air in my truck tires. The strange holes dug in the lawn were not a mutant mole, as I’d thought, but him digging out yellow jacket hives. He failed, I guess, and the one I finally destroyed was the same one resurrected. The clumps of grass he left around the blue spruce were not neglect, but fear of the hive. The cats barely move. Maud will go to the shower to lap up water. Circe goes to the litter box and the food bowl, but spends the rest of her time on the green cushioned chair. Circe climbed to the study to me today, and I made much of her for extending what must have been tremendous effort. Old age is one thing that cannot be cured. I must be patient. Maud purrs when I hold her, and I sob.

Blundered upon the news that Pilgrim Hills is to be sold. My spiritual life began there.