Yesterday at the end of my three-mile walk, I approached the house and watched a few maple seeds spin lazily toward the ground like propellers.

Other trees on my block: cedar, douglas fir.

Not seen since arriving in this town: a pigeon. Instead, hundreds of crows. Whom I love.

I think I may have to switch to tea for a while. Too much coffee, man.

I’ve been writing again, trying not to think about colossal failure and wasted years, and just enjoy putting the words together.

I think tonight I will make cream of mushroom soup.

Thus endeth this morning’s dispatch from Kitsap County.