Coffee in bed, no need to rush, and that’s a relief. I get to the pool in a slower way than usual, and I swim my mile, but with a little less enthusiasm than I’d like to feel. Then home for a sweet walk with Charlie. I stop at the brook as I do every day, and for the first time, see in the clear shallow water a swimmer––a baby muskrat busily at his breakfast. He swims under a rock, where perhaps he now lives. Charlie didn’t see him, so that was good. Then I walked the trail and stopped by the brook again and found the sun lighting the water in a lovely fire. Speaking of fires, my daughter said Wave woke up at 3:00 a.m. and said, before going back to sleep, how special Uncle Landon’s fire was last night––and the hemlock tea too. I took a second walk, as well, out with the boy, and we also went to the brook for some rock throwing. Then, back to the campfire to see it in the light of day. Clean up and some chores and some rest today. I wanted to work on some writing, but fell into a long long nap, and that was the right choice. We played pickle tonight with family and friends, but I was irritable and didn’t have much fun and probably should have stayed home just to rest. Tonight as I head to bed I am dog sitting. Kuzma, our guest dog, is staying with me and Frank while Lilia goes out with my daughters for some fun. Charlie is so happy to have a guest dog around and they play quite happily and Lilia the dog lover makes life quite nice for both of them. Charlie has missed Suzi, and Kuzma is a fun and stressless companion. There is some good news as some hostages are released. It’s quite riveting and emotional to follow the coverage on the news as it’s unfolding. I have finished listening to The Marriage Question: George Eliot's Double Life by Clare Carlisle on Audible, which has inspired me to start listening to one of the two of her novels that I have not yet read: Daniel Deronda. I haven’t written in at least a week, a little more. My creative brain is distracted by travel last weekend and the holiday. I hope, by Sunday, to find my way into a poem.