This would have been a gorgeous day, if not for the wind. Any time I was out in it (and that was as little time as I could manage), all I had to do was find a little shelter and a little sunshine (sometimes not easy to do at the same time), and it was warm and pleasant. But oh, that wind. Chilly and decidedly unpleasant.

It turned over my birdbath, for one thing, and it made a noise in the eucalyptus grove like the end of time. Or like going through a carwash, whichever aural image is more vivid to you. I don’t know what it is about eucalyptus branches, but when they blow, they blow loud.

When I drove to the post office this afternoon, it seemed that the power lines hanging over my street hung a little lower than usual. This was probably an optical illusion, because I was sensitized by all the twigs and branches strewn every which way. That made me look up, and I wondered how a taller vehicle might negotiate the road. But there were crews out, so if anything were really wrong, they would have taken notice.

So I stayed in and worked, mostly. And slept some. And read the new John Irving novel, Last Night in Twisted River. I’m about halfway through, and it already has the two essential Irving elements — bears and wrestling. The settings and characters are as intriguing and diverse as you’d expect from this author. I’ll let you know what I think, but I wouldn’t have got this far if I didn’t like it.