I like the sound of rain on my metal roof. The sound of hail, however, is different. It sounds exactly like someone dumping a bucket of rocks on my roof.

Home. Made it back yesterday afternoon. It was nice to sit on my couch. Look out the windows. Sleep in my bed.

There’s this thing I’ve been doing lately that I call counting days. I take my current age, add ten years or even fifteen, and try to imagine living to that age. It’s daunting to think about sometimes…

Well, disappointment. Houston lost to Duke in the Sweet 16 last night. A key player went down early, and in a season marked by players going down to injury, it was one injury too many.

Had a bit of sad news . The lady who cleans my house and the houses of several friends is riddled with liver cancer. Today, around 11 a.m. they’ll start taking her off life support.

I suppose it’s inevitable, when you start piling up the birthdays, eventually to start wondering how many more you have left to pile. I know it’s crossed my mind a time or two. But it’s especially interesting to me now that I have a synthetic product in me that has an actual lifespan.

There were days before my surgery when I was ready to run. To get away. To ignore it. Even when the surgeon came to visit me as I lay on the gurney waiting to go to pre-op, I was still thinking, no, I should wait.

I spent the first week post-surgery on the first floor of my daughter’s house. No driving or stair climbing. Most of my time was dedicated to walking around, sitting, staring at my phone, and sleeping.

I've had an interesting week. This past Monday I had six stents installed in my aorta. They run from just below the renal arteries down and through the left and right iliac arteries…

I planned on taking a break today and letting the writing slide. But I felt the urge after seeing all the thoughtful comments and prayer offerings from yesterday, so here goes.

And so, the journey begins. Today I head to Houston for an evening with my daughter and two grandchildren. Then tomorrow we head to the home of my oldest son. We might play guitars. We will certainly eat good food.

It might be the season of the Crossvine. I planted it last year to grow on the new gazebo. It seemed to prosper, but not flourish. Then winter came, and I had no idea how it would fare as it died back and seemed to disappear.

I did my tax prep yesterday. I use an accountant. He sends me a booklet. I fill it out. I know people who do their own taxes. But I’m not that smart.

It was another nice day in the yard. Except this time, I was digging. Thistle’s. The big, aggressive kind. The one’s who’s leaves will bite at the faintest touch.

Spent time with my flowers yesterday. No pruning or digging. Just looking and touching.

Wow. I slept the whole night through. Not something I normally do. Feels good though. To go to bed and wake up at the appointed hour. Reminds me of my youth. I don’t get that reminder a lot these days.

It’s the final week before I go in to get my aneurysm repaired. As almost always happens whenever I have a procedure, e.g. hernia repair or colonoscopy, that puts me to sleep, I wonder about waking up.

We’re back to love. There are lines in a song I like. They say, “I think that love is so much easier than you realize. If you can give yourself to someone then you should.” I like that thought.

I’m coming down from the mountains today, even though I spent most of yesterday reading about them, the ones in Big Bend. Today I’m back in the Hill Country…

I’ve been waxing euphoric about mountains the last several days, and I see no reason to stop. Because I enjoy these mountains, the mountains of Big Bend. It’s tempting to say they stole my heart, but it’s more appropriate to say I made a place for them in it.