Perch @perchingpath@eldritch.cafe

A delegation of neighbors arrives with questions.

Tripped and slammed the jamb of a deer-fence gate hard with my shoulder, releasing months of absorbed animal resentment in one clang flung across the barren. Just bruised, though, myself.

Walked into a small sunshower of small hail. Bantam pellets that couldn't raise a welt but rattled & ticked in the dry deadleaf carpet for a few yards in all directions. I caught its last 8 minutes at sunset—no reason not to assume it'd been pitter-pattering that plot since dawn.

▼OTHER
▼OME

Racing the stiffening of my re-vaccinated arm to finish the laundry and dishes, so as to be practiced when called upon to Pyrrhicly strangle a basilisk.

At 2:30, my dangling earbud clanged twice against my water bottle with the tone & cadence of a small ship's bell. The watch duties of all near-drifting spirits of off-course sailors were thereby extended by an hour and a half. I'm sorry.

I've cleaned between the bookcases.

The paths by the big creek are offering a markedly tempting poisoned menu this month. Every little bird out there recommends the possum grapes on the peppervine for deƨsert.

If you want to coax me into something against my inclination, you're best off approaching me in my sleep. I'm listening to a Roy Acuff album because I dreamt someone told me to, and so far I can't endorse that figment's advice one bit.

Dreamt of a film, Cleopatra Antonov.
Its poster: the star (fetchingly rat-faced, small mustache, short purple hair) against snow, looking away, fearful.
A clip: They tell a grim knot of nonplussed cops of encountering "some meat...", then clarify "a wall of meat" to dawning recognition.

A man on the impoundment bridge confidently told me something plausible about the shyness of terns, and within 20 minutes a tern approached to contradict him. This could happen to anyone. Couch your avian observations equivocally and impart them in whispers when birds may be near.