Calm Skies.

The puppet show sings along out there in the backcountry under its own power, and a cloudless cool Friday morning arrives like or even as a reminder of exactly what the sum total is supposed to be about, anyway, which is: Get the hell off your email. Get the hell off your hamster wheel, too. Side the final side of the writing shed. Don't do anything other than that. Anything other than that is too much, is taking space in your head from what that space should be given over to.

A high of 73 today. A low of 46 tonight. A high of 73 tomorrow. Yes, please, and yes again.

The pictures out of Alabama. There's nothing else to say except: The pictures out of Alabama. You draw a sky like this on a day like today and it feels impossible that something like that could also come out of the west. It makes a thing like siding a building feel like folly, feel, above all else, like a temporary act.