Despite promise of rain and thunderstorms, we decided to take a chance and meet on the patio rather than inside. Glad we did! Rain arrived later.
I spent time with a new person to join us, one who has recently returned from an attempt at community living in California, on a farm near Willits, until a million acre fire only ten miles away drove her back to Bloomington, where she grew up and went to college. And, she says, this year promises to be even worse out there, given the ongoing drought.
Yes, we welcome rain here in Indiana, and count our blessings.
Our evening was full of joy and laughter and spontaneity. So glad we can begin again to actually be with each other.
I hear from Ethyl that after I went to bed she brought out her hula hoops and the six or seven who remained started “hooping,” something I remember when I was a kid.
Here’s me (white shirt) just prior to deciding to actually eat a cicada. Ate a chocolate one first, but then decided to eat a fried one, too. GOOD! Crunchy. Ate five altogether, and it’s forever changed my view of the strange little clumsy bodies that get smashed on streets, cover trees and bushes and only certain plants, and generate an ecstatic whirring singing that penetrates the atmosphere. from dawn to dusk.
This morning I managed to photograph the leftover chocolate cicadas.