From June 8:
A
quiet evening on the porch - new cushions, new pillows, wrapped in a
light throw. Listening to the birds settle in for the night, and
suddenly realizing their songs have finally stopped. Watching the bat do
circuits above the front yard, wondering if the chipmunk will find the
seed I put out for him. Moment ruined by a big-ass spider moseying down
the porch post and towards me. Both of our evenings ruined: mine by his
appearance reminding me that the porch is also the domain of the
8-legged, his by the weight of the citronella candle I trapped him
under.
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