It was a weird, magical night.
First, John came in from tinkering with his bike in the yard and said he'd heard gun shots, punctuated by the sound of a mechanism putting another round in the chamber. I hadn't heard it in the back parlour, but he said it sounded like it was just up the road behind the house.
Then Rosie was very anxious to go for a walk, so when I finished my taping for the evening, I took her out. She was worked up, spent a lot of time sniffing and refusing to walk.
She found a dollar bill in the road. I'm saving it for her college education.
We saw two night herons in Littlejohn Park. One flew away right away, the other watched us until Rosie barked at it.
When we were almost at the house, we came across three teenaged boys riffling through a duffle bag. They crept off as we walked up, so I stood by the bag for a while until they walked off down the street, saying, "Some people are bitches." I brought the duffle bag home and called the police to come get it. It turned out to be full of notebooks full of music (the policeman went through it when he got there, not me).
A strange, weird night.
