The chair on the porch is without a cushion. The hard wood feels good on my back. This beer feels well deserved. I want to call someone I know and tell them how ecstatic I am. While the sun is up, the birds are screaming for sex. And the magic seduction of the whippoorwill. It turns the woods into a haunted folk tale no matter what. Later on when the owl gets going, forget it. Fuck singing, look what I got! I slaugh.

Last week, it was like summer. Last night we wore sweatshirts and pants and jackets and were cold walking around the Creek. But, we live in Michigan, so this is life. We were wearing tanks and shorts and sandals last Friday. And we were sweating and got red cheeks from all the sun. Baby girl is officially 15 months.