One Never Knows

Someone seems to have kicked the celebrity puffball. Sighting reports are coming in from all points as the cloud of spores spreads. They land in darkness and quickly germinate so they are visible by morning.

I envision these other-worldly visitors drifting down on the night breeze like Mary Poppins or dandelion seeds. Surely they don't just drive here. And we don't hear nearly enough helicopter traffic for that to be the delivery method.

Between Paris and Hollywood, the town is apparently fully occupied. Meanwhile, in my little foxhole of this vacation Dien Bien Phu, we're seeing only the usual crowd. Since I remain the only full-time wrench on staff, the 9-plus-hour day I put in today is probably still less than I could and should put in, as the golden heart of yet another summer gets devoured by my default occupation.

At least the rain held off this morning. I wore a wind vest and those nice CWX tights in the somewhat chilly morning air. Fatigue and the chance of rain made me more susceptible to the idea of chill. Without chemical intervention, I actually managed to stomp out a few good moves on final approach through town. Traffic was light. Maybe the clouds kept people at their cottages for an extra English muffin and coffee.

The sun had set before I got home, but the summer twilight is still long and light. With a gut full of Kona I felt a little like riding north until I ran out of road, then walking until I ran out of land, then sitting on a sea cliff, staring out over the ocean until my skin shrank to leather against my bones and the wind played a tune in my empty eye sockets.