I have not emptied my photos from my camera for a long time. It is how I have kept track of what I wanted to write about in the past; a little visual memory to spark an idea. The house, as the plan falls into place, allows for me to spend nearly nothing and be master of my own free time. This morning I sat and listened to the silence, apart from piñon jays feeding, while I drank my coffee. It’s cold, 0 F, and so they are hungry to warm themselves. I counted near thirty. I always am sure that I have food around on the cold nights, often accompanied by light snow. The syphon lock of the hard cider I am brewing makes an irregular tick. Not much longer than a second. Could it be shorter? That is how much time matters. Not at all.
Well here they are, my summer gone.