Breezy enough to sweep through the open Sylvia door and keep her innards to 80F degrees or so, and so bearable and actually quite pleasant to work in as the air passes coolly over the skin.

The occasional yellowjacket drifts in then out again. Never had a yellowjacket on the place until I put up the yellowjacket traps last week. The label said it worked for paper wasps too, the kind that sting the bejesus out of my hands and feet every summer as they nest everywhere, everywhere around and about the house. Instead, the trap pheromone simply attracted every big fat bumblewasp yellowjacket in a five-imile radius to a property they'd never noticed before. The traps are half-full of these hapless critters, while the spindlier wispwasps with the mighty stings go peacefully about their papernest building in the eaves and yardjunk unperturbed.

So. A flawed plan.

Studying all day today. Not really writing. Except for a burst of poetry a month back I haven't really had beautymind in a long time. I do not fear. I know it will return one day.

Meanwhile biographies are closely read and notes scribbled, passages transcribed. Nightdreams ruminated on.