Hi from the dog days of summer, which spin around with “drought, sudden thunderstorms, lethargy, fever, mad dogs, and bad luck.” According to ancient tomes, they do anyway.
Sure, the Dog Star has risen and the solar eclipse approaches, but this was a regular old weekend, cosmically speaking. I didn’t do anything special, and that was special. Because you should be allowed to relax in the summer.
Garden wise, the very first tomatoes are ripe on the vine, but I had to throw out the brussel sprouts. They were full of aphids—I’ve been warring with bugs for weeks now. They are very small, but they won.
Puppy, wise, Piney swam for the first time. A momentous milestone in the development of a tiny canine brain. Importantly, he did not swim to fetch a ball or stick or save a drowning human. There was no goal to the wild paddling—just fun. He splashed around in circles and bit the water and I laughed with delight because … because what’s better than fun?