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2011-04-28 - 12:41 p.m.
always, these shadows stretch and seep
a cool wind roils in the pines, and overhead, the clouds crackle and swell. after the rain passes, a damp warmth will settle thickly into the folds of the landscape. last night, i stayed up late in the kitchen to put up strawberry jam. the windows fogged over, a soft and redolent heat. i am moving toward something bigger and better than what i have, maybe - but can i let this go? am i able to take this risk?
* * *
reading: the pumpkin eater, by penelope mortimer.
listening to: it's a little to late - copy.
working on: specifying probability generating functions for a particular process.
in the garden: gaura and snowball onions are coming into bloom.
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