Friday, 31 July 2026
Today was about coping with the weather. It began warm and sticky, and became, tahdah, hot and sticky. The audio track was fan-whir. Finally, it rained, which cooled everything a bit. The humidity remains, however, and the fan noise is relocated upstairs.
Thursday, 30 July 2026
When I was “little,” that is: of the age to play with critters like this, I would have been bothered by the sloppy molding and painting on these lions, and I would have ignored them.
Wednesday, 29 July 2026
Plants don’t have this kind of cognition, but I swear these daisies were posing.
Tuesday, 28 July 2026
The sun appears.
Sometime later, I watched a busy bee.
I took a beach walk, and ventured beyond the point.
On my return and strolling the beach, I heard squawking above, looked up and saw no branches and caught the sound of departing birds. When my head was tipped back, I heard a plop at my feet. Looking down, I saw this critter scramble into the water, swim a meter or so away from me, then pause, I assumed to catch his/her breath, or whatever frogs do. After a moment, the critter kicked twice to reach the shallows, shown here. Did I startle the bird enough that it dropped the frog? That’s my hypothesis.
Monday, 27 July 2026
The morning began with foggy overcast, if we can use that phrase.
By late morning, the overcast lifted a bit, yet remained.
A very light rain chased (not really, just a more poetic phrasing) me off the beach. Later, it cleared and got sunny. Then, it rained again. Now, it’s overcast again. The plants really need the precipitation, so I’m okay with it.
Sunday, 26 July 2026
On our morning visit to the beach, all was quiet. Very quiet. Pleasantly quiet.
Late in the afternoon, we visited A Big Lake (aka Superior). It was quiet, too, although there was plenty of evidence of the hustle-bustle of kid-fun plus adult activities.
Meanwhile, back in the pines behind the beach, we watched a turkey hen usher her brood through the brush…what I’m sure is a nightly feeding tradition.
Saturday, 25 July 2026
We arrived at the cottage just before 5pm, after a straightforward drive up from Ohio, and only a dozen-minute delay at the bridge-crossing toll booth.
One of the crucial cottage-opening activities is to air out the place, which is easier upstairs with a fan. The big bedroom has a pair of under-eaves windows facing south, one shown here, and a pair of higher windows in the end wall. It’s not an optimal flow-through situation, but a fan does help to make it work.
My apps indicate it may get down to 62°F overnight, which sounds impossible to Atlanta-in-July-oriented ears. Hallelujah.
Quick note: smoke-at-ground-level predictions on airquality.weather.gov suggest we’re fine for a while here…yay.
Friday, 24 July 2026
The inception: a loud pop (blown tire).
The outcome: just fine.
It was okay because we weren’t on I-75, there was a wide shoulder, and it was a rear tire (so it didn’t affect steering).
The big plus was a tire place (actually several, but we only needed one) a mere three miles away.
And we needed new tires, anyway.
They promised they’d finish changing, balancing, etc. the four new tires by 3:30. In fact, we were on the road again just before 3pm.
Also, we’re on track to get to our previously planned hotel stop at a reasonable hour.
Thursday, 23 July 2026
I did a morning errand down one of the main arteries nearby that is four-lane, two each way. However, today it was only one lane each way, with large trucks parked every eighth of a mile or so blocking the center pair of lanes. As near as I could tell, they were checking the storm drains below the street, or perhaps blowing them out. They had big pumps or motors making a fair amount of noise, and the truck guys were standing at a control center on the front of the trucks monitoring operations. At least, that was the impression I got.
Wednesday, 22 July 2026
True, it was low-light (although it doesn’t look like it), but that bee was SPEEDY!