Sep. 5th, 2019

Yesterday, we took a walk by the lake, and then went to the bookstore, where I tried to figure out what is wrong with my current project, other than it being by me. We got a birthday card and a book about how to draw manga for young Raptor, who will be 8 on the 9th. He was all set to arrive on 9/10/11, but then he showed up a day early, so now his birthday is 9/9. While we were sitting on the dock by the lake, I had a long conversation with Queenie. Later we checked up on Tron and the Diva. Tron decided she was feeling a little better and told the Diva to stay home, so now the Diva is sheltering in place with her family as Dorian arrives. We keep telling ourselves it's not going to be as bad as Florence was. I finished reading The Age of the Horse. And yet, in spite of doing those things and several others, by nightfall, I felt my day was so insignificant that I couldn't bring myself to say anything about it.

This morning, the Sparrowhawk mailed the card and book, and another book about drawing comics that was sitting on the shelf, probably from the Raptor's father's childhood days. He also mailed one more form for the bank, that I apparently failed to sign correctly the first time around. He picked up his MELCAT books from the library, including Fascism: The Career of a Concept by Paul Gottfried, which I requested. I'm trying to spend less time on the screen and more time on the page. With limited success so far, but every little bit counts.

It was a beautiful day. We went back to Meijer Gardens and this time circumnavigated the Japanese Garden fully. It isn't as big or beautiful as the one at the Fort Worth botanical garden, but it's very pretty. The Sparrowhawk shared an interesting thought about his photography. He said he just sees something he likes and takes a picture of it, but he doesn't narrate to himself about why he likes it or what he is seeing. It's purely visual. It was funny, because the word "narrate" had just appeared in my head before he said that. I'm always trying to find the words for what I'm seeing--though any word seems more like a precis or mere summary of what is actually there. It can't encompass the thing itself, but it's sort of a reminder to bring back the full memory. Anyway, words play a bigger part in my seeing than they do in his.

Today the beauty was in all the many different textures and tints of the leaves, punctuated with different shapes and colors of fall fruits and berries, and the occasional plume of blossom. We climbed to the top of a small hill at the center, from which you can see everything below, with the trees and the rushes at the water's edge forming a frame for the ever-changing painting of the sky reflected in the water of the lake below. Up above us, a hawk rose into the blue, flapping his wings until he caught the air currents and began to soar, spiraling higher and higher like a kite, without moving a feather. Finally he plunged into some river in the upper air and drifted away eastward into the clouds till we couldn't see him any more.

At home, I worked on my problem some more. ("The problem, Pansy! The problem! Oh! Oh!")

I also checked on Tron and the Diva again. The Diva said "So far, it's just rain and tornadoes." But when I was all YIKES she assured me the tornadoes were not near where they were, but elsewhere, and they were staying put in relative safety. If they make it through tonight without losing power, it will be grand.

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