Heave, Ho.

I wade through tonight's sultry muck to tuck
damp wisps behind my mismatched ears.

Today it stormed. Beautiful, furious storms make me forget myself.
For the sake of Annika-Scaredy-Cat, I explained that the sky was singing to us a throaty, rumble-song of forceful, frightening joy. Millie played her harmonica for accompaniment, creating a duet to rival any that have come before and any that are yet to be.

Now Annika, her fear and trembling mixed with excitement,
exhorts the booms and crashes to greater feats yet.
"'Under! Big 'un! C'mon 'Under! Big 'un!"

I have no idea how to begin again a blog I've neglected for two months,
and I have no spunk stored to fuel my words. All spunk left in steaming rivulets during these last few days of infernal heat before evaporating entirely.

Taste these pictures instead of words. Over the next week, I'll chronologically post the piles I have in heaping, indigestible portions.
Prepare yourselves for bellyaches.

Tonight, I'll do my best to lump together snapshots that were near the beginning. I took only scant pictures the first few weeks, and because Millie was too busy howling around like a banshee and Susannah spent her days buried under boxes, this first batch is made mostly from that rarest of ingredients called Nixie Pixie.

Just shy of midnight...