This is it. The solstice. It’s all downhill from now, light wise. The days are again going to grow darker. At least it will be a while before the darkness again impinges. Today was the sort of day in which I wanted to be on the water, say, in my sea kayak.

I worked on Shelf Life – I’m trying to move right along with this because the publishing industry could do a nosedive. I decided some time ago that mine might be the last book in the world to be published. There is now a war going on, and it may become another world war. It might be hard to get a book published under such circumstances.

I reiterate, for me, writing is a form of problem solving. I would not say that it’s therapeutic, but most definitely I use it to work through issues. What’s the difference? Well, it’s that (I pause) the issue in question isn’t one in which I’m reflecting on my personally related past, but rather on my role in the book project.

Summer. I worked hard today, while in the former banquet room of the historic Eagle Hotel. I did two thrift store runs, one to Thrifter’s Rock, where I salvaged the contents of two shopping carts, and to Family Treasurers, where I salvaged the contents of several boxes and bags. It was a good haul, although I did find myself wondering why the local recycling center doesn’t drive their van over and pick up our recyclables.

Pete and Robert did the distributing, although on my way home I put two bins of books in the Turkey Red bookcase lobby.

I got home and Pete was on his way out. He’d attached the trailer to the big red pickup and was on his way to get hay from John DePriest. I breathed a sigh of relief upon his return because acquiring hay is our weak link. A bad year or bad economic conditions could leave us shit out of luck. And so, we spent the remainder of the evening doing our hay thing. I pulled the hay on the trailer forward and Pete stacked it in our hay barn. Tyra stood by, watching.

It took a while to get the job done – I think we now have enough hay to last us until the fall cutting. Hopefully our hay dealer will have more on hand.

I did not get a ride in. And it’s supposed to be overcast tomorrow. I am staying home tomorrow because I worked so hard today. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have an entire weekend free.

I’m still searching for that illusive writer’s colony, the one in which I will work in an uninterrupted fashion and be fed, of course eating dinner with the other residents.

Next: 170. 6/22/25: Doing the Impossible