Friday Morning.

Bit of a gray breeze out here on the ole WeatherDeck this morning, a little something coming in west to east and maybe trying to storm some on us later on. We shall see. What we haven't got this morning is that cathedral light we've been seeing all week long, that deep persistent yellow—though the yellowing top of a distant maple over there past the apartments and towards the blue hippie house will do for the nine o'clock hour, enough yellow to remind us what day it is, what time of year.

An emergency just rode by west to east out there on Friendly or Market, depending on which one of them runs right to left across your radio dial here in 27401. I can never keep straight which one is which. Plus they don't even split until right over the hill there, so it could probably be either.

Train. Bird in Vieja Nueva's forty-foot-tall ivy-infested holly going cheeseburger-cheeseburger-cheeseburger-cheeseburger. I'd look up which kind, except the bird book's out in the shed, and I don't feel like barefooting across the lawn. Sorry, birders. Though here's a semi-handy—at least semi-amusing—way to have no idea what kind of bird it is. What we know: it is not the one listed as saying cheeseburger.

The best kind of hum: low traffic, crickets, a car horn, birds, far-off dog, men a block over explaining how it is, the truck arriving to bang the Dumpster around some. I bet they don't even empty it. I bet they pick it up in the air and drop it down three feet over just for the hollow joy of the noise.