Day Off

Five-thirty a.m. and the foxes are barking and yipping in the dark down along Perry Creek.  There really is a creek, not just the name of a road, and it evidently makes for good hunting.  Foxes have none of the melodic yodeling of the coyotes, and they definitely carry on longer until the neighborhood dogs get irritated and yell at them to shut up.  I haven't used or needed an alarm clock for years.

After a flurry of company, welcome as it was, I took yesterday off.  It was a perfect day to sit out on the deck with Bess and think pleasant thoughts, watching the turkeys and feeling the breeze.  The deltas had kicked in for real and the temperatures were in the low eighties; such a relief!  It won't last, but, gosh, it was so nice to get a break from the heat.  The cats came out of hiding, wherever they go when it's hot, and took turns sitting on my lap.  Ralph "made muffins," that rhythmic kneading that cats do, with such an intent, serious look on his face.  I had a chunk of polenta in the fridge, fried it crispy, and put a few drops of truffle oil to finish; heavenly!

There are things I could have done and should have done, and I don't feel one bit guilty about not doing any of them.  As my daddy would have said, "Put that in your pipe and smoke it!"

It was a good day.