first of summer, regardless, and although opinions of ‘summer’ may vary mine have ever begun

[at least since we moved to Solano County] with a last walk down along the water,

last stop in Fairfield [this year anyway]

and that last migration over the hill until the season’s end.

80 to, three hours later, 447,

Nixon and

north to

Gerlach and

Wall Spring, our governance of angry tweets and the ‘buse candles dominating the audio

much of the way, to be greeted by greenness,

rainbows

and rain on the barby.

Tuesday; our cheatgrass crop warms in the morning sun

and most of Day One, with rain on the tin [not shown] at the end.

Day Two, bright again,

a run in to the P.O.

and hail after noon.

Rain gone again, land perked up

and so unto dark.

By Wednesday for some reason Kim Jong Un has rejected the “Libya model” on offer from the idiots around the White House [give up your nukes then end dead in a ditch soon after, your country in chaos; what’s not to like?] and duly called them idiots, at which point Dump, liars being rather overly sensitive to the truth, haughtily pulls out of his fantasy “deal”.              Imagine that.

Ah, the radio…accompaniment to watercolors and…sewing.

M