Things that have to be done by the end of the day:
Walk dogs to see what is on the beach today.
Make fire and light it. It is colder today. Perhaps the wind has swung around. When it gets light I will look at the flying bear to see.
3. Stack logs and chop some smaller and bring more in to the dry.
Phone Scott, the insurance man. I have cold feet about my breakdown cover so want to make it more expensive.
Try and grasp the idea of a quilt of the world and begin drawing and painting it, large. Something that would be beautiful to sleep beneath, to dream beneath, something that celebrates the nature of our world.
6. Find out how much car is worth and write notes to put up to try and sell it.
7. Take print into town for framing.
On the beach today, shattered feathers stripped of their fronds by the sea. Sometimes I feel like that. Smooth stones and white foam. Waves reaching in and drawing on sand. Plastic, beads and bowls and bottles and shards, fragments. Thoughts, a trail of them falling beside footprints in sand.