July 9, 2025

Back to painting, but slowly increasing the total number because I like to repaint old ones. 

Two guys came to the house wanting to sell me a solar power array. I had to get dressed to answer the door. They were handsome, so I let the conversation go. They were excited because as they waited for me to answer, the red-tailed hawk captured a bird at the end of my drive. “There was a flurry of feathers,” one said. He’d been in a few movies, and mentioned a scene where I had seen the movie and actually remembered him in it. I told them I was not going to buy their service, but said yes when they wanted to come back on Thursday. I can look at them, and then say no again. 

Sat by night on the porch hitting my new singing bowl, trying to get the best sound. The light touch is almost always better, and that almost always takes me by surprise. As I sat, a bear came up between the hollies and made his way across the lawn, going at about the pace of a human jogger. His form was beautiful, deeper black between the black and the moonlight. He showed no interest in me, but I panicked anyway and went inside, ashamed later of my retreat. 

PR and I sitting on the east porch drinking cold, bitter tea, discussing Blake, Berkeley, Shelley.