2020 seems to be the year of death and dying. Wives, aunts, fathers, friends, people we knew up close and people we knew at a distance.

Set out the winter beds for the cats yesterday. Two old dog kennels, one old sleeping bag, one old packing blanket, two old small, bedding blankets, put out by one old man.

I found an arrowhead yesterday, in my front yard.

Here we are. Another installment of the semi-examined life.

It was a dusty day yesterday. It looked as though gravity had failed…

The monastic life. At one point, I imagined, if I ever found myself without a wife and the kids were grown, that this might be an option.

There’s a golden glow over the pasture and the hills beyond. A light fog is lit by the morning sun.

It’s not a good time to have a bad relationship with pollen. I’ve done everything in my power to make it good, but the pollen couldn’t care less.