Observations

September 15th, 2024: The stalk of the century plant is gone. The wind blew it down or the neighbors chopped it down. Either way, I'm upset to see it gone.

September 14th, 2024: Every nail salon has a touch of acetone in the air, even only a small amount.

September 12th, 2024: The tall stalk of a century plant has sprouted up in our neighbor's backyard. I have never seen one grow in Northern California.

September 12th, 2024: A college campus thrums with ambition and purpose. I'm happy to work where I do.

September 9th, 2024: The tips of the trees are painted in scarlets and golds.

September 9th, 2024: Two flocks of geese were flying in V-formation. They'll either stay here or fly further south.

September 8th, 2024: The banana pudding pie is one of the most delicious pies I've ever had.

September 3rd, 2024: Even though it was almost a hundred degrees when I got home, dew glistened on the cobwebs anyway.

September 2nd, 2024: There was a rat hidden in the lemon tree. Not ideal.

August 27th, 2024: Poured an avalanche's worth of epsom salts into my bath by mistake.

August 26th, 2024: The lawn was dotted with tiny white flowers and even tinier yellow ones.

August 24th, 2024:The gibbous moon hung low and gold, glowing in the sky's darkness.

August 22nd, 2024:I saw at least six custom license plates today.

August 21st, 2024: Semi-trucks without a trailer look naked.

August 20th, 2024: On the drive to work today, a cloud of dirt and dust puffed up out of nowhere. I was inside the car and have no clue where it came from. It got in my mouth and nose, and I tasted grit all day.

August 19th, 2024: The light from the super full moon poured into the kitchen.

August 18th, 2024: The trees rustle from the cool evening breeze, the chill caressing my skin.

August 16th, 2024: Found a house with a banana colored door, so bright it was impossible to look away.

August 16th, 2024: A nearby tree has a tiny red fairy door at its base. I wish to walk through it.

August 14th, 2024: Summer seems to end earlier each year while still staying hot.

August 13th, 2024: Trees are bursting with these magenta colored blossoms right now. The flowers are tiny, clustered together in little bunches. Bees love them.

August 13th, 2024: Hot water and cold water make different sounds.

August 11th, 2024: It's wish seed season. There were too many to count on my walk. Doesn't that feel so apt?

August 10th, 2024: Among the red roses in the backyard, a blackberry bush has propagated. The fruit is plump and shiny, and doesn't taste as sweetly as expected.

August 9th, 2024: On the way home from dinner, I caught a glance of the sun for a second. It was a second too long.

August 9th, 2024: From the very second I woke up, I knew I had started PMSing.

August 8th, 2024: The temperature has cooled considerably, but it still feels so listless. Lazy hazy sky, lazy hazy summer.

August 8th, 2024: While on my walk, I saw eight dragonflies. Each of them were either blue, black, or gray. They circled around, flying without real direction.

August 7th, 2024: My muscles are remembering what consistent yoga feels like. They're reawakening.

August 6th, 2024: While he lays on the end table gazing out the front window, my cat likes stretching his paw out towards the sill. Sometimes he can't get a firm grip so the paw slips, but he keeps trying anyway. The paint has chipped away in places because of his claws.

August 6th, 2024: There are still several blooms on the jasmine bush. Small and white, they smell so sweetly.

August 5th, 2024: The sound of the freeway is ceaseless yet always changing. I don't hear it but then a car honks and I'm all too aware.