Summer is now officially dwindling away, and my stay in Pennsylvania can no longer be counted in weeks or even days. Its afternoon and the sky gives the vague impression of impending rain, the shetland tea shawl is off the needles but yet to be blocked, War and Peace is very close to being done but I seem to have lost all energy and taste for it. So it seems a strange time of half endings and near beginnings for me.
Some sort bush full of white flowers is leaning into the windows and the sounds of work and sleep are all around me. I'm not packed and feel a sort of loathing for Flordia and its constant reapperance in my life. I want it put away in a neat box marked "past" but this is not likely to happen. Nothing, it seems, is so easy to put away.
Tired and restless is the best way to describe me these days. Yet I seem to get things done, and to at least appear active.
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