Or a book on Gardening.
Today compost of the best quality fell from the sky. Rain. All day. Soft and steady. Wetting even the driest soil. I wasn't sad that the sun didn't shine. I wasn't sad that I had to open the big golf umbrella to go to the box to get the morning paper (with Riley) out by the road. Stepping around puddles the birds will use to take baths...later when the rain stops and the sun comes back.
Another mad human with a gun.
Someone, somewhere is trying to tell us something about all these guns and all these angry men--using the guns to make themselves feel better--or worse. Who knows anymore. I don't. When will someone listen? Do something? When will America say---enough-- no more.
I'd rather read about a Garden. Wild flowers. Ferns. Trees.
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