(morning writing, cats)

[elainegrey]

As i tuck my legs under my nightgown's skirt, to hide from the mosquitoes and -- glorious! -- the 61°F temp*, i see whole snapper and imagine trying my hand at fish head stews. Later, in the fall. A sheet pan of tiny baked perch fillets will do nicely in the freezer as lunch time taco filling.

Marlowe is attacking Luigi more now. He's clearly less stable on his legs and has moved into some new stage of aging. Is she attacking because she senses something else wrong? We will so miss this sweet old man of a cat when he passes. He's so delighted to be between us on the couch at lunch and during the evening. He used to sleep with us at night, but i think adjusting to tossing humans is hard on him now.

Well, i've made little progress on morning to-dos, there are too many -- but i want to bag some figs before the wasps are out. I'm hoping the cooler morning has held them back.

• Dew point 60°F: it's dripping wet and there's a light fog between me and the clear sky and the sun lit pine tops.