It was kind of cool on the 4th of July with highs in the 70's. Melissa and I were trying to remember what year it was that temps were in the 40's on the 4th of July. I googled the word I knew would give the answer: Pinatubo. It's a volcano in the Philippines that erupted big time in June of 1991 pushing a cloud of stuff into the stratosphere and cooling the planet. "The United States experienced its third coldest and third wettest summer in 77 years during 1992." No cookouts on the 4th; we huddled in a Belfast restaurant and had chowder. I still call that time Pinatubo Summer.

Our friend Barb Johnson in New Orleans is starting to get published, including a national contest winning short story and an essay about writing the story that won the contest. I think next she should write a poem about writing the essay about writing the story.

From the newsletter of Over the Rhine (wine me, dine me, Over The Rhine me!): My father said that on the Amish farm of his childhood, the chipping sparrows would line their perfectly round little nests with horsetail hair. We don't have horses ... so when we see the chipping sparrows building their nests, I give Elroy a good brushing and leave the fur in the yard. Sure enough, their nests are always lined with his black and white hair, the baby sparrows nestled in a black and white Great Dane quilt. We save the Elroy-lined nests for our Christmas tree. Melissa latched on to the idea and I expect to see robin nests lined with Scout and Wing hair next year. Another note from their newsletter The coyotes have been howling down in the creek the last few nights, restless with the sacredness of it all says what it is I like about their music. It's "restless with the sacredness of it all." I've missed several opportunities this past week to try out the fireworks setting on my camera. We had a cookout on Friday night, then we all paddled out between the islands to watch Unity Raceway's fireworks, which were almost as good as the amazing display done by one of our seasonal neighbors on the 4th. It is odd and beautiful to paddle in the dark. It's good I didn't have the camera on that adventure because I was in the middle of a canoe dodging the kayak paddle of six year old Reilly who was in the front. I sensed that some of our more serious paddlers were not accustomed to singing Row Row Row Your Boat on the way.