 Higher number of COVID-19 cases each day (due to testing, according to the governor—the best comment I saw on this claim last week was that's like saying we have higher temps because we have more thermometers), high 90s temperatures during the day last week, no rain, and haze from the African desert: life as we know it now. A little respite, a little peace, and a little quiet, that's what we could use—how about some time at the beach?
 Late afternoons here in summer bring clouds, rain, lightening, but at sunset especially fascinating combinations and hues of color. I may do a series to show just how varied these evening skies can be. This one is from yesterday.
 The summer pattern is here: heat, humidity, and storms in the late afternoon. I am fascinated by the forms, movements and often spectacular performances clouds take on—as here. Even under the exhausting summer sun, there is beauty to be found, if we look for it.
 Muir Woods: gives us a little perspective, something we could use about now.
 Tarpon Springs I'm not sure about everyone else, but I'm rather overwhelmed right now. Reading the newspaper (my primary source of news) is a chore and a daily assault. I walk outside every day, and watch the people who won't move from the middle of the sidewalk to keep a safe distance and who don't wear masks and sneer at those who do. Peaceful protests turn into violence to which the "authorities" respond in kind. No one pays much attention to questions like why would people turn violent? Then there's my disgust at the behavior of a male (not a man) who would push aside citizens so he can do a desecrating photo op (just when you think he can't sink any lower into dehumanization, there he goes!). Not going out now for nearly four months, I don't have much new added to my group of photos, so I'm going back through those from when I could go out (as above),
and I often find something I like and overlooked before. And the rains come and wash pollen and dust out of the air and clean my windows and the streets and cool things down for a while. And with less car, truck and motorcycle noise, suddenly birdsongs are clearer and more noticeable. And I message my kids (not a practice I'm fond of, but they seem to prefer that—these kids today (well, not technically "kids" anymore, I suppose), who can understand them?) and that's good. Seeing friends or hearing from them—fewer contacts perhaps than before COVID-19—still they can make a day seem richer. So, today, just today, that's more than enough to rejoice and be glad.  June 1, 2020, the beginning of what promises to be a difficult and perhaps horrifying summer. COVID-19; hurricanes; protests—non-violent and violent. No real leadership at the national or state (at least here in Florida) levels—just political jockeying for power and posturing (including misleading and outright false claims). And yet as a reminder of just where we human beings fit into the whole, the sun also rises and goes down . . . Julian of Norwich's assertion has always seemed to me so full of hope (if in some moments almost impossible to believe): All will be well, all will be well, all manner of things will be well. May it be so.
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