Oliver and I awoke around 7 this morning when the light here is at its best girlish self, light and playful. I checked on my garden in its circle of native rocks, and Oliver investigated the olfactory traces of last night’s animal guests. Now he is scratching at the door to go out again. Cheerio, Luv, as Mick Jagger used to say, back in the sixties.
Joan Lauri Poole 