Morning fog.

I step outside to get my mug from the car. The air is cool and damp. I hear nothing but the quiet sputter of the pond and a little bit of bird chatter.

For a moment I worry that today is already Tuesday and that my week will go by too fast. I remind myself that I am the source of time.

That’s not a number I wanted to see, but I am proud. This is means growth. This means I did a great job.

It was the regular coffee that did it.

Change into a dress. This feels like summer.

Maybe we can figure something out.

More work on a day off. Boundaries. Boundaries.

Cool in the shade.

I bunch the old ranunculus together and hand them upside down to dry.

Forgot the pasta. Got everything but the pasta.