The pump house is coming along. It turns out I have more tin than I imagined. Plus, I’m making do with what I have so, old fence slats are filling in where needed.

It feels odd to be writing about small things when there’s a big thing happening right down the road, but this big thing isn’t a personal tale like my other big things. Those were peculiar to me but relatable, an illness in the family, a death, things we all suffer.

I sang some songs yesterday to a crowd of people. Mostly nobody listened. A few did. I could see them looking at me. But the rest just talked and chattered as I played.

An only upside in failing to sleep through the night is being able to walk out onto my porch and look at the pasture behind my house in the light of a nearly full moon. It’s a bonus when the temperature is in the 40s and there’s no breeze.

It’s a cold crisp morning in the Hill Country. The air is clear, not a cloud in the sky. The presidential election didn’t go my way, but the sun has come up every morning since and gone down as well. I’m disappointed, but it isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last.

We got a semi-big rain last night. By my gauge, it was nearly half an inch. My new roof appears to work as do the new gutters which now shed water at all four corners of the house.

As a democracy, we don’t seem to care. Voter participation has hovered between 50 and 60% in presidential elections over the last 120 years. The last time it hit 70% was in 1900.

A fair number of my friends are Republicans. And we have talked politics on and off over the years. We have discussed various issues and compared candidates. I know how some of them feel about their current candidate and I am unaware how others feel.

To me, this election is about my vision of America. Kind, considerate, gentle, caring.

Ah, the mysteries of life. I listen to the speeches of the current Republican nominee for president, and I hear nothing but vile words filled with contempt and hate. Yet, a neighbor down the street or a friend across the state hears the same speech and it’s the nectar of the gods.

In my view across the great political divide, I see signs for the other side all around the area where I live. They’ve grown exponentially with the election, but election season or not the current Republican candidates name is always there along with flags with his name on them.

I don’t know why I care about immigrants, illegal or otherwise.

My back’s feeling better these days, but my soul’s still a little sore. It feels as though some people want this election to be about God because there’s a lot of bible thumping going on.

I’m at a loss to understand how I’m someone’s enemy because I’m a liberal. I support civil rights. I want gay men and women to be able to live their lives, be married, and be happy. I want women to have the right to choose their medical care.

Last week the Los Angeles Times and the Washington Post refused to endorse a candidate from either party because the editorial boards wanted to endorse the candidate of the Democrats and the tech billionaire owners said, no.

I’ve always wondered when I read the saying, Make America Great Again. When was again? What time period, what point in our history was the zenith to which we should return or bring back?

They say it never pays to stand up, because most people would prefer you sit down and shut up. And the Japanese have a saying that the nail that sticks out gets hammered down, because they really like conformity.

I voted yesterday. Then I spent most of the day in a funk.

Spent the day yesterday helping friends provide music, sound, and food to a gathering of women at the Hotel Giles in Comfort, Texas.