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The excessive dryness and unseasonable warmth make me anxious. Sixties fahrenheit and dry may feel good in San Francisco, but here it just is out of place for the existing flora and fauna. Still, I made sure to get out and enjoy the exquisite afternoon that it was. I find the skies of drought achingly beautiful and mysterious.
It was also nice, but peculiar to go out into the backyard and pick nearly a pint of ripe grape tomatoes.
It has been a special day. I met a skink when we were weeding at the Youth Garden. First time I have encountered one.
I am grateful for a life that is healthy and safe enough for such things. Wishing health and safety for all and giving of time and energy (though I am sure it ought to be more) beyond the prayers to help it manifest.

I have been walking earlier and earlier to be with those seeking communal isolation and not with those who simply have not yet managed to grasp that the severity of the situation also applies to them. This morning I was called to go to Congressional Cemetery and walk among the markers and spirits of the dead. I found it sparkling with light and new life.
