The sun rose up this morning to an isochromatic canvas of apricots and peaches painted in one slow, firm stroke. A solitary motion glowed over the hills and broke the tops of the trees. The air warmed up today and honeysuckle floated through the air. I smelled pine trees, too. I walked the dogs to the park across the street, then along the lake. There were a number of small boats out early, with people’s fishing lines cast outward with hope.
In the afternoon, while I was sitting on the porch, I heard the ping of a basketball being dribbled in the park. I walked over and there was a man there dribbling and shooting hoops, Eric Storm-Tammus. I remembered him from a few Eagles’ basketball games this past winter and when I mentioned it to him, he laughed and said, “No one remembers the basket
