I can see the sun bright through the stitching on our front windowshade, like it’s hemmed with light, little lines of glowing pinpricks.
The birds are in riot and started just before the sun around five, I can count at least six different calls, probably more. More faintly, I can hear the waves on the beach. The nose of the bigger ones crashing carries more than I’d figure. Also an occasional horn, I guess maybe the ferry to Cape May.
Bought a glass crock yesterday at the thrift store; two dollars. It has a loose fitting lid, also glass, an eagle embossed on either side, and raised ridges ringing the top and bottom which are lined with little even-spaced stars. It’s very patriotic. I was looking for a suitable container in which to begin a sourdough starter, and the choice between this American masterpiece and the plain old mason jar was no choice at all.
Sharaun couldn’t sleep again last night, think she was up until four. I went outside shirtless at eleven to watch the meteor shower. Tried waking Cohen, even scooped him up abd carried him outside, but he wasn’t having it. Instead Keaton joined me and we both stared up until our necks were sore.
Sometimes I just want to freeze mornings like this, keep the contentment that I feel in my heart and belly forever. I have done so little stopping in the past ten years, no time to just think, this trip has been like rain after a long drought.