We are enjoying unobstructed sunshine with an outside temperature of 1° Fahrenheit. In four days, the shortest day of our northern year shall be upon us. Illuminated by today’s sun, my solar photovoltaic system is presently producing something near three-thousand watts of power, which is greedily consumed by portable electric heaters directed at the exterior doors inside my house.
My
island girl, Desiree, is napping on the sofa not far from a pair of nearly ripe
tomatoes she has nurtured in our sunroom.
Elsewhere in the world, Russian conscripts in Ukraine sacrifice themselves
for an unhinged leader who cares nothing about them.
Ye,
the “artist” formerly known as Kanye West, for reasons continuing to evade me,
remains out there splashing about in the news.
I am
thrilled about the sunroom tomatoes and reasonably happy with my cellular phone
service.
I
woke quite early this morning, wondering if I should paint a wall in my house
something other than white. This is not
a decision I intend to rush into.
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