The sun is out, barely. Most of the sky is white rather than blue, the smell of rain still permeates the air, and thunder showers have a thirty percent chance of visiting once again today.

The beauty of all this, besides the drama of a change of weather, is that the temperature is twenty degrees cooler. Such a drop is relaxing, almost too much so.

But I still worked this morning, waking up before dawn and pressing on with website design, trying to get a uit of Romeo and Juliet finished before I leave for a bit on Monday.

Did I mention I’m going to Tombstone, Arizona for the week? I don’t know why. My brother, a high school world history teacher, has become obsessed with the history of the Old West, and when I casually mentioned we should go to Tombstone he not only agreed but ran with the idea far beyond my meager suggestion.

That means a break for me, my first time away for a few years. Given the movement in certain areas in my life I’m not sure I want or need the break, but it will likely be more beneficial for my soul than I realize. Plus, it’s quirky, and nothing rejuvenates my being as much as something quirky. It twists my conceptions and restores a sense of fun and humor which may emaciate from overlong contemplation.

A hummingbird just flew by, and has landed on a cedar branch. Tiny and quick, it is a moment of curiosity for me when I see one paused at rest. I need to get a feeder or appropriate plant. This is the third time I’ve seen one, so I think it would happily make a stop here on its regular route.

That’s that, I guess. Nothing pokes my brain asking for mention, and I sit here this morning neither elated nor depressed. I suppose I’m feeling bland, now that I think about it, but it is a busy bland, an occupied bland, and that is not a bad kind of bland to be.