1. Up before the alarm because the weight of his head has made my arm fall asleep.

2. Pastel skies and the rumble and creak of a garage door.  

3. Two blue jays by the back stoop. In and out of the trees they go, chasing a much smaller and much darker bird. I feel like they might be good medicine.  

4. Ladybug in the car fluttering around.  

5. The weather today. Warmer but somehow not. The breeeze, maybe. 

6. Vigilance.  

7. The things that didn't get done: the writing, the laundry, the errand-running. 

8. I have a running list of book titles and not very many ideas for books. I mean, I do. I do have ideas. They are little seedlings of ideas and I'm waiting patiently for them to sprout and flower into something that feels a little more alive. But for now, I'll just keep collecting titles. 

9. I pinch off some oregano, clip some rosemary and sage. The extension of this heat means that I've harvested another 3 pounds of tomatoes and twelves jalapeños are wanting to break through. But I am ready for the grayness of rest. 

10. I say to him that I am still sad. That I'm still not sure that moving here was the right choice. That it really doesn't matter now anyway because here we are and I'm sure everything will be just fine. And then I think back to yesterday and how everyone asked the same question, "how do you like it out there?"  and how I could feel myself trying not to sink. Maybe I just need more time. It took me 5 good years to find my footing there, to feel like I belonged. I've only been here 6 months. I think I just need more time.