A short departure from the vacation photos: A few days ago, this bright yellow 'shroom sprang up in one of our potted houseplants. It lived a total of two days before 'shrooming back into the Nonexistence Place, ephemeral as lightning in a summer sky.
Yesterday we could be found in a kiddie pool in our front yard, grilling steaks and vegetables and listening to a Pablo Birdsong mix tape called "Maraton de Musica Lovena." A friend we made almost exactly one year ago, Allen, biked past our house, then came on up and joined us a while. I asked how he was feeling. He said, "So-so," but looked great. We didn't see him all winter or fall, but we picked right up where we left off.
"Can I ask where Stella is?" he said.
"Yeah, Allen, she's gone to the Nonexistence Place, but lately I've been dreaming about her and she seems to be doing well."
It's true. Last night a dream woman pointed at ancient pictographs as we floated by in canoes - "See that eagle? It's situated on the rock as if to suggest medicine for the people."
Later, after Allen's visit, and steaks, and bedtime for Bonzo, a tornado skirted Iowa City and sent sideways sheets of rain down onto creation while the weather sirens moaned like tiny-throated baby Leviathans in the night.
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