Received some rain and thunder boomers yesterday afternoon. The house floofs took it in different ways. Tucker was all mellow, like, stop that noise, I’m trying to sleep. Papi came in and found a secure place beside me, remaining there, quiet and awake, until it was all over.
It’s Sunday, May 28, 2023. Spring pressed the rain button for Ashlandia one more time for today. Oh, the smell yesterday and this morning was wonderfully fresh, a restorative tonic for my senses. Clouds rule as far as my vision takes in. 64 now, we’ll be peeking into the mid to upper seventies by mid-afternoon, the weather jockeys say.
I was conversing with myself about a dream and its meaning, chuckling at a clear cliché which had been used. I scoffed at my dream manager. “Well, that’s not original.” Liking that, The Neurons kicked off “Come Original” by 311 from the turn of last century. I’d not heard the song in eons that I recall but then wondered, did I hear it somewhere in the background? Who knows with the mind, hey?
I’ve had brekkie, and some coffee. Time to launch the day in a serious way. Stay pos, yo? Here’s 311. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 
Thank you for this beautiful post. I love how you’ve described the atmosphere with such detail. The weather, the smell, the music, it all creates a vivid picture in my mind. It’s like being there with you! The brevity of your post is great, and I’m so glad I read it. Thank you for sharing!
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Thanks for the kind remarks. All makes me smile, my friend. Cheers
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