June 16, 2019

Bloomsday, Trinity, Father’s Day.

Startled a fat woodchuck in the garden. Is he a resident? Passing through? I have no vegetables, so I wonder, if a resident, what he eats.

Watch the catbirds flying low, scarcely above the grass, at sunset.

Second night of the run also excellent. Jack is there; Leland goes home with a stomach ailment at intermission. One saw that coming. That nearly everyone in the crowd is a stranger to me is both wonderful and disappointing. Heard a murmur of “that is so relevant to what’s happening today” as people left the seats. One never knows if one is being prized for what one prizes in oneself.