Wednesday, June 30, 2004


Finally got all the plums off the tree, but not after I heard a big ruffle behind me while planting peppers and turned to see Dr. Crow's big black wings whiffling for balance while he beak-wrestled a plum off its branch; I clapped twice and he flew off, beak wide holding a plum, laughing silently. I immediately got the ladder and harvested the rest. Final plum score: Crow: 1; Monkeys: 14; Brady: 42. Victory is sweet. And juicy. [Note for plummers: if the plums have reached the yellow stage (no green) they will continue to ripen after picking.]

Late afternoon rain from skyhigh white thunderheads that have been marching in noble procession around the Lake all day in roiling majesty against blue sky; now at evening the heavy rain comes bearing implications of thunder and lightning, though none yet. And in the big sparse invisible drops that fall early, with no wind, the new rice dances jade and silver, backgrounded by a slanting late summer afternoon rain by Hokusai. Green. Cool. Fragrant with life.


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