There’s no point in hurrying to get up now. The thought of an all-cold shower is impossible. But sitting by the picture window in the den at 0500h. the moonlight is splendid, sickle shaped and perched between an isosceles triangle of stars.

Today’s dawn has the moody intonations of fall, dark clouds touched with pink. The light this time of year is my favorite, the soft, warm shades. The honey bees like the Autumn Joy sedum and it’s nice seeing them back in the yard, a curtain call for summer. The cone flowers have dropped their petals and the foxglove are expired. They come out of the ground with a short yank and I toss them in the wheelbarrow.

The different angle of the light makes new shadows in the morning when the sun comes through. Like the half-pie wedges of the front door window projected on the back wall of the den. It looks just like a game piece from Trivial Pursuit: answer a question right in each of six categories, get a different-colored wedge. There are still motors going from lawn equipment, but soon it shifts from the cutting things to the blowing things.

Heat feels good in the car in the morning now to dry up last night’s condensation on the windshields. But I can’t give in to turning it on in the house, not for a while. Today it should hit nearly 30 Celsius.

I must be feeling better because I replaced a toilet seat on Sunday, then bought a hedge trimmer on an extendable telescopic pole. Shaved down the hedges just below the DSL lines without cutting internet service for the whole neighborhood. Gathered all the clippings and flash backed to Eberhard and me doing similar at my mom’s house. The Germans all seem synchronized on the same schedule for things like that, unspoken but understood like they’re in a cult.

The toilet seat was not so straightforward. I had to use a hack saw to cut the bolts. There was no way to loosen them from that cramped space underneath with a socket, pliers, or wrench. Flash backed to Dawn’s brothers fixing things at her mom’s house and me trying to help, on the periphery. How fast DIY techniques degenerate into sheer muscle. To beating things with hammers or yanking them apart with crow bars. How people ever got anything done before home improvement videos on YouTube. How embarrassing to type “how to remove toilet seat” in my search engine. Cognitive offloading = less gray matter in the brain.

Talked to Lily, who’s in France, about Charlie Kirk. How she’s taken some abuse for being American in her university, and I don’t blame them. She wants an outside-in perspective with her International Relations and Poli Sci work and she’s getting it. The kind of BS angry social media chats she got herself into over Kirk. The best advice I read last week was you don’t actually have to say anything. It’s ok to process and gather more information. Which suggests a deeper level of brainpower vs. the fast muscle jerk response.

Dawn and Charlotte visited Lily’s campus in Strasbourg this summer and said all the American-themed apparel was discounted heavily at the clothing stores. So Charlotte came back with sweaters and hoodies donning American flags, kind of funny.

The moon throws cool shadows on the front yard and looks like it’s sitting in a jewel case display between those three stars. Soon I’ll be back in Europe myself, looking for that same moon.

Categories: Creative Nonfiction, Memoir

Tags: Creative Nonfiction, journal writing, Memoir, pacific northwest