T.

Battling the j-lag haze. Sleeping in the sun
this morning, I kept dreaming that I was
going blind. The more I slept, the more blind
I became. When I finally did arise, I had trouble
focusing. Weird.

I bought a chicken today and made a chick-rice
soup for dinner, with thick chunks of portabello
mushrooms. Good leftovers. I don't want to go
anywhere: here is just about perfect.

Paul and I walked along the curvy cove,
out a long gravel driveway to an island with
one house on it. When we turned back we discovered
that the tide had rather quickly come in, so it was
a sloshy-slog, testing out the water-resistance
of my new hiking boots. They passed the test
except for the water which came in up at my
ankles. No wind: rare. Warm: rare.

We heard that last week there were high tides
and the mackerel were so thick in the cove
you could almost pluck them out with your hands.
I would like to see this. Last June I could stand
on the front porch and watch mullet swirl about
in the salt water.

Often when the tide is out, girls on horseback
gallop across the mudflats. (I've only seen girls.)
It's wonderful to hear this -- the rhythmic pounding
of the hooves. I want to do this --

Our neighbor Mina received four chickens
for her fiftieth birthday. One, named Houdini,
made her escape via the fox's jaws. I suggested
she name one of the remaining three Henster Prynne.