The rain against the shingles sounds like a banked fire, muttering continuously. One day I will get tired of it, but not today. I haven’t showered in 5 days. I add another containment layer of clothing, and a scruffy beard.
At Purisima Creek the banana slugs are on walkabout. Francine says, “Ewwww, I almost stepped on one.” Moss, ferns, leaves, everything dripping and everything green, except these squash-yellow slimers. They have no need of camouflage. Ewwww, the birds say. I almost bit into one.
Of yellow and camouflage: Dominic sends a photo of a triad of flowers, in sepia, glistening with a silken elegance. He asks if I can identify them. They look so familiar but I can’t say for sure, so I email back to ask what color they are. Yellow, he responds. Could they be…oxalis? My nemesis?
Mold, oxalis, slugs. Hail the conquerors.