Not only July. But almost August.
And a pile of Small Journeys.
An almost September like morning. Says stack wood. Don't forget.
A summer bookmat to keep track of summer days remaining. And hot humid days that had me on bitch alert left gifts. Reminders to be grateful and less shortsighted.
Tomato Moon it will be then. To mark some sort of UnDoing, UnGlue-ing of ways.
