A package from Frances, birthday remembered, handmade toffee by Joe. Such a welcomed treat from them both, more importantly, a note scribed by hand with news if only little.
A day of maximum humidity, dew point is at saturation creation of fog; just now a cooling breeze adding comfort to what is described as miserable. As quick to arrive and comfort, equally to cease and the return to reality.
It arrives again, giving hope of change in the weather; the lyrical notes of the Godlfinch aroused now, dancing among the cone headed, season past flora, little fodder left at the feeder, they now must fend off the remains from the summers flowers seed bounty.
T.S. Eliot now in my hand to read, to study, to understand: "The Waste Land".
Sitting in comfort to read, to write, breakfast of granola, yogurt, coffee, text to study; the Way of Chuang Tzu; words to grasp of inner deep thoughts of self.
A 'rasp' of a Cat Bird, the vibration of the Cicada, a new mixture of clouds pocked with blue sky; rain ...? Rain? Needed, wanted. Yes, a cooler front bringing relief from the current pattern is most desirable.
It is time now to ready myself for the lab, I must solve the mystery of a stain, 'the stain, that stain', which haunts my sleep; chemical not Karma, understandably so...
*The Kingly Man; The way of Chuang Tzn; ['... on the threshold sat an old man, aged beyond guess of years; talk kindly he had been, but now, he was withered as an old stone". JRR Tolkin; "The Lords Of The Rings"].