The Evening Breeze wafts about me. It has a renewing peace. The birds sing their Evening Song. Mylo came to the Writing Porch but could not stay. He is in search of spinach. Mylo loves a leaf or more of spinach. Spinach is his cookie and his motivation. He dances after he has engaged in his constitutional. Once he receives his spinach, he dances again. The shadows are serene. They promise sunset. There are no cries of conquest or retribution. When you seek retribution, who is hurt more?

The sound of the mower is heard in our land. A daily plesantry in June. The bullfrogs are laughing as they practice for the nightly concert.

Jack Benny used to visit his basement vault to admire his money, according to his comedy writers. The rich man speaks lovingly to his money, hoping it will grow.

El Niño is forecast to produce hot temperatures across much of our land. The Strait of Hormuz will cause food disruption. Rich countries will still be able to obtain food, and poorer countries will not. Poor people will die. We Americans export a lot of oil. China exports a lot of Green Technology. So far, global warming has been watched on the nightly news in the first world; soon, it will be lived and died by all.

Grass looks especially nice in June. Fun to walk on. A good place for badminton.

‘Ivy beat me in badminton today,’ Neva J said with a laugh. ‘We drank Long Island Iced Teas, and she beat me on the third Tea,’ Neva J winked. ‘My foot got caught in the thick, lush grass and I missed a serve,’ Neva J winked. ‘Since we installed the sprinklers, the grass grows two inches overnight,’ Neva J smiled. ‘Ivy invited us to a pool party and a Marionette show this Saturday, they have a new inground pool,’ Neva J noted. ‘1962 will be a banner year if we do not get into a war with the Soviet Union,’ Neva J cautioned. ‘I love June, my birthday is on the 29th,’ Neva J winked. ‘When we visit Mom in Eldorado later this month, we will take the Badminton Set with us,’ Neva J danced.

We wait. Waiting is our thing. We have waited before. We will wait again. Our Good Earth waits. Earth has seen good times and not-so-good times. Sense of Place is patient. The Bullfrog Quartet does not practice until it is time. They understand their discipline. The singing for the members of Brooks Pond and those within their hearing. The grass is vibrant green in June and brown in September. They sing for the hope. The song for the grace of living in a mysterious orb of happiness.