There is one odd catch. We have had different neighbors the last two nights, and in both cases, television is their sound. I realize the background noise of the TV is worse than second-hand smoke. When one reads, peruses, or holds a book, all is silent for those around. Hearing the words "war on terrorism" repeated over and over on Saturday morning is a rather grating experience, but, happily, they have now journeyed onward after missing the experience of where they were.
Amazing, I am reading an incredible book, A Place of My Own by Michael Pollan. He decides to build his own writing space, to feel what it is to merge his own personal foundation with a dream, and the landscape which surrounds. I am feeling the foundation of this place, the lightness of the merging of indoor and outdoor. We sit on the porch and the trees lean toward us. We are together in experience.
Our dinner at the Olema Inn was excellent. I cannot recommend it more highly. The fresh oysters came, each coated with an incredibly unique topping. We all agreed the food was excellent, the service impeccable, and the view charming.
We are tied in bridge, males and females. We females have not yet stepped into our full strength. We are warming gently, setting the trap for the trounce.
Again, glory rules. May your day be peaceful, with the sounds of nature part of your guiding jewel.
I should mention there is a passing traffic flow, but with the proper tuning of ears, it can sound like the wind or a stream. There is nothing to do with the words, "War on Terroism," but, puke.