(no subject)
This afternoon the air was so hot and muggy it felt as if the woods and valleys had a fever. Then the storms have come. Most of the rain has missed the little valley where we live, favoring the mountains as it so often does. But, the sky has lit up again and again like a flash bulb.
I've inherited some money from my grandpa passing away this spring. Nothing huge by any means but significant, especially for an ecologist on a state temp salary. I don't know how to feel about this. Becca is out of town, and I am sitting in the bed of my truck alone, watching the western sky flash and thinking about how I'd talk to my grandpa about weather when I was a little kid. The last storm cells missed us but this time I am being pattered with raindrops. My
hair is standing up ever so slightly. I guess it's time to go inside.
I don't think I've fully mourned his passage, but I'm not sure what there is left to do.
I miss my grandpa. I hope I spend some of his money on something worthy, but I'm still figuring out what that means.
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