A few minutes into a June Sunday, the brutal heat of the day fading, a fine whiskey in the glass and music of the Old Blind Dogs lifting my spirits.  Six cats loll around the living room and deck, cheering me still more.  I’m dreaming of tall, cool mountains…

A waning moon just rose over the bay, yellow-orange as a peach.  A small boat sails out into the bay.  What a pure joy, to be on the dark silent water in the middle of the night, no other boats or people in sight or hearing, shore lights and the Kemah Boardwalk all dark.  This is what I work so hard for: to linger late into the night with my leonine buddies, carefree and insouciant, a bit tipsy as the last wisps of the sea breeze freshen the night.

As Truman Capote wrote, I could die with this evening in my eyes…