All evening, I watched silent lightning storms move around me, tracking them by the direction, my fancy radar app, and orienting myself by the compass. I realized the heat lightning I could see to the south east was a cell down in Lynchburg. The massive tangle of light behind my house, out beyond Elkhorn and Elliot's Knobb, was a cluster of storm deep in West Virginia - skimming southeast, angling to miss my sleepy little town. I like the shape of my town, its position between and within two mountain ranges that are tangled together like interlaced fingers. I like how much you can see. But no storms here yet. The night has remained hot and breezy, the stars looking dull between piles of anvil-shaped clouds.

How did the weekend creep up on me so soon? For the long hours of this quiet week, it has gone so quickly. I got home from my long errands of procuring cold air and wine from onerous Harrisonburg, cleaned house, went for a long walk with the dog, and ordered Indian food. The rest of the night I just sat on the porch and read my book. 

Now I'm into the witching hours - where I know I should go to bed and even want to, but as soon as I go upstairs my mind will snap back into action, and I'll have to find something to do with myself for the next two hours. At least it's getting cooler. I'll install my little AC unit tomorrow and then it will be very cool indeed.