It's late. Out the open window by my desk I hear what sounds like repeated gunshots, and subsequent shouting-a girl, more amused than scared. I'm guessing some teenagers are doing the sort of thing that, while tempting to call the police about, would be much less interesting upon close inspection. I'm hoping.It's been that sort of day, actually. As if "that sort of day" routinely includes scary episodes in places you least expect. We went for a miserable hike this morning. Tim would not support that assessment, but he knows what I mean.
Along the wooded path we navigated, on the other side of the Hudson, some misguided being with a blue spray paint can left all sorts of hostile and scary graffiti. I've posted an awful lot of new shots for my suburban graffiti project today, but I've left out all the ugly ones. Curse words. Pictures. Swastikas. I didn't even take pictures of those.
I pulled Anna into the shower with me the minute we got home.
On the way back to the car, we saw a snake. I'm not a fan. Tim picked Anna up and pointed out the critter slithering away. Good enough, until the entire ground cover started to move, and we realized we had startled some sort of snake haven into action. I can't even write any more about it. Not a good walk.
Funny, the rest of Sunday was wonderful. But I'm left with this odd sense of malaise from the snakes, and the graffiti.
::For anyone wondering: meeting Jen last night was wonderful. She is sweet and smart and lovely, and I hope we cross paths over and over again in the future. Thank you to everyone who came out to the gallery to help welcome her to Tarrytown.
::
More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt
