April sky, disrupted by clouds, and pleasantly varied with a lining of blue and the hardwoods beginning to bud in reds and pinks and greens so cheerfully. I take a good long walk and the trail is muddy at times, but who cares? Still, no sign of any flowers where I walk in Rocky Narrows. Layers and layers of leaves and no wildflowers poking through. I am busy, today, but have to take a break in the afternoon from a brain foggy feeling and I do some raking in the yard. It’s nice to be out with birdsong, clearing up dead grassy and brush and last year’s flower stalks and a multitude of leaves and detritus. A waft of mint, raking the herb patch. My eyes notice places where I want to plant bushes. I pull wagon after wagon of matter to compost. Tonight, I lead my monthly critique group and the writing is excellent and so are the comments, and it’s wonderful to watch the bond of trust building between writers. There is hope for justice in the murder of George Floyd. But it’s always more hopeful when the prosecution is presenting their witnesses. And, other injustice tonight concerns me: Alexei Navalny, ill in a Russian prison with no medical care and on his hunger strike and what a hero he is, how much courage he has in his opposition to Putin. And they have arrested the doctors who are trying to give him medical care. I say my quiet prayer for him tonight that he will live.