Sunday was cool, way wet but fortuitously not flooding; in sweatshirts and raingear we ascended Fossil Hill which, rocky, remained unmuddied during light intermittent rains while

ever in a cloud which dispersed into almost-sun by afternoon…almost.

Monday crept in monochrome over-[and somewhat under-] cast, quiet and cool,

no internet all day, low and grey; studio progress settling in, mushrooms in the woods including

suspicious chanterelle mimics rumored poisonous.

Tuesday; sunflowers increasingly ubiquitous,

sun on Fossil Hill and

Dean down for three hours recording for Luz.  Rain returned and continued into the night

wherein, between squalls, we made it to Dr. Hecht’s for a farm-to-table dinner [fresh greens from her garden, freshly dug potatoes from Leon’s, baked – most likely farmed – salmon] with our heretofore unseen friends from Mountain Water the Spellpeople, Joan and Robert.

Home latish with news of many things, latish up for a spongy walk through small woods

followed soon after by an unexpected

visitation from Bill and Mu bringing tales of gigantic mushrooms and torrential rains on Greenhorn, seen here from the studio as a last squall blew through while, Paul Bowle’s vintage Moroccan recordings no longer satisfactory I switched to Turkish Üd temporarily before finally

just before dinner the internet, absent since the small hours of Monday morning, came back

as mysteriously as it’d left, facilitating all this and more…more sunflowers by the minute,

handsome dogs, smoke from the Dixie to mask the Huajas and

burgers on Mark’s homemade bread.

Also corn, not shown.