I stepped out the door into the sultry July night
and I stepped into a sea of homesickness. I became
homesick for the very thing I was experiencing. I
was so homesick it hurt.

A cool wind was blowing away the heat of the day.
Venus glowed brightly just above the western horizon.
The waning moon was not yet risen. The bullfrogs were
in full orchestra, and crickets chirped along with
them but at a higher pitch. Dogs were barking in
the distance.

Fernnook Farm, my own little corner of Mayberry, is
marvelous in July. I missed it last week when I was
at the Lake; I'll miss it next week when I am in
Cuernavaca. It will burn like a flame in my mind
while I am gone and will welcome me with open arms
when I return.

I meant to give an update on all things Mayberrien, but
right now, though I am in the midst of them, I am missing
them too much. So I will wallow in my melancholy and
give the update when the mood swings back up.