Having survived (barely) the heat and drought of June, the front-yard flower meadow rebounded and is still full of life. The tall orange cosmos are the latest wave—trying, I guess, to prove that the last shall be first…

In an effort to appear to be lighthearted, I’ll repost this from 2012: The angry poet lashes out at his solicitors on election day.

Carving sale November 7–17 — I’ll post again the week of the 4th, but for those of you who have asked, here’s your advance warning. I’ll also have Christmas ornaments available then; more on that soon.

Something different this time. I wanted to do the tree; not sure how I feel about the rest.

I would like to support my locally-owned bookstore, which is close enough to my house that I can walk there and back within an hour. But every time I check their online store to see whether they have the book I want to read, it says “ships from warehouse in 3-6 days.” It’s not so much that I’m in a hurry — I most often buy books through Alibris, and have them shipped media mail. But I can’t see why I should pay them, in essence, to place an order for me. The bookstore feels less like a community partner and more like a government agency levying a tax. And the fact that my preferred reading is so rarely found on their shelves tells me that I am not really part of their community, anyhow. Though I know that just from walking around the place.

What I want from a bookstore is ecumenical chaos. This is not the same as having everything. But it is to be open to having anything.

Where the Eno River empties into Falls Lake.

I saw two white herons today, so either that’s good luck or I’m going to die soon. I don’t know how these omen things work.

Basically yesterday I walked 22 miles to watch the sun set.

He said I could set up camp wherever I wanted, so I picked this.