I see the moon; the moon sees me
Under the shade of the old oak tree.
Please let the light that shines on me
Shine on the one I love.
That's the version we used to sing around the campfire at Girl Scout camp, and I'm sticking to it.
I look at the sky a lot these days. It's the one vista I have here that is limitless.
Here is yesterday's morning sky, just before I set out for a walk. It did not rain on me, I'm happy to report.
Also yesterday, for some reason there were more than the usual number of fungi around the trees. This was the most humongous one I saw - it was about two feet across.
For some reason it was the same colorway as the Covid Diary VIII just finished. That was purely accidental. Or was it?
I'm now up to the eleventh in the diary series. Here is the beginning of Covid Diary XI on the loom. It's more somber in tone than its precedents.
I attended a virtual watercolor workshop this week and brought in some flowers to draw. They lightened the mood. Bruce and I enjoyed photographing them, and then I did a few (unremarkable) watercolors.
I had much more fun messing with Photoshop. My days of designing for the TC-1 (jacquard) came into play here.
In the department of books, current reading includes John Barry's The Great Influenza: The Story of the Deadliest Pandemic in History. On the same topic, Katherine Anne Porter's Pale Horse Pale Rider. Also La Peste by Albert Camus in English translation as The Plague. That concludes my pandemic-themed reading for a while. I'm now reading some historical fiction about the American Revolution, which I'll report on later.
Now back to the loom, as soon as we deal with a smoke alarm which went off in the middle of last night. False alarm. But lost some z's.