Terrific afternoon. Skip reads in the yard-chair next to mine. The unmown yard grasses nod and twitch their heavy seed heads in the little breezes, dandelions' spherepuffs white and soft irregular amongst them. Birds twitter and peep, occasional repeated soft dove coo-call.

dogApple lies on the ground between us, alert and panting, ears pricked to hear better the distant barks and yipes of her lonely yardbound dogfellows.

No sleep overnight. Caught a couple of hours 9-11 a.m. Pluto retrograde sits on my natal Sun yet again. Go, go, off with thee, damned planet. This is third or fourth minisleep day in a row. I fear the thyroid supplement is waking me up to old sufferings. So liquid melatonin etc stuff that used to work sometimes, not so much now.

It will pass. We'll find new strategies. I thought I shouldn't waste energy in struggling to sleep, but instead should simply shift my schedule 'round to write at night. But at night I have no words - no images, even. Only endless reruns of the day's events, pounding residual headmusic from evening TV.

Maybe I should just go to bed at 8 p.m. That way it will be a decent hour when the struggle finally ends.

But anyway the immediate world here is beautiful and calm today. Green and gentle and warm.

Thanks.

First wasp sting of the season yesterday - on my sandaled foot as I walked out to water the hollyhocks.

O cruel nature, red in tooth and claw.

I'd had two close calls already that morning - the beasts are everywhere, setting up shop under the eaves, even starting a nest in Sylvia trailer near where I work and sleep! So it was off to the hardware store to buy a pair of wasp traps. Hope to heaven they work.

***

Ongoing health questions use up all my attentions and the Project languishes at the almost-done phase. Meanwhile I've outlined a more straightforward piece on my experience of starting a used-book shop though Asperger's.

The yard - well, much of it - got its first mow yesterday evening. Dragged the trusty mower out from under its eight-month winter tarps, gassed it up, checked the oil, gave it a squirt of starter fluid, and we were off to the races on the very first pull. Things are looking pretty neat and trim.

And the goldfishes in the trough are fat and happy, our first water-lily leaves unfurling at the surface.

Spring comes late to the high desert, and then in a heartbeat it's summer.

All the more precious, then.

***

Look at the time! Off to mail Mother's Day cards. love