Dark. Just a little after 5. I can safely say I no longer need an alarm.

Sweater and shorts now. 99 degrees later.

Another snail casualty.

Deciding what goes where into each container.

Okay. So, he’s right. Sometimes I task him with the hardest stuff. I just sign the title.

I eat the leftover meatloaf outside and watch the butterflies, white and yellow ones. Oranges are starting to turn orange. There are pomelos now, large and deep green.

Progress. Definitely not perfect.

Follow the thread.

The potentiality of everything.

You-fall-ogy. That’s how you pronounce it.