By Jim Jarmusch
Water falls from the bright air
It falls like hair
Falling across a young girl’s shoulders
Water falls
Making pools in the asphalt
Dirty mirrors with clouds and buildings inside
It falls on the roof of my house
It falls on my mother and on my hair
Most people call it rain
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We had spectacular weather here on Thursday. I had a somewhat ridiculous morning trying on and photographing potential dresses for older son's wedding, then we had acai bowls for lunch and I did some computer work before we took a walk to a beach suddenly busy with swimmers and kayakers. Behind our apartment, we saw jumping frogs and what we think was a diving otter though it moved so fast that it was hard to be sure.
We switched between the Orioles (who finally beat the Nationals) and the first round of the NFL Draft before my Thursday night chat (who did not agree with the Facebook consensus on dresses for the wedding). Then we watched this week's Ghosts before finally starting the eighth season of House in prison, which I'm not loving but at this point will stick out till the end. Some angles of the Brandywine Falls in Cuyahoga Valley:
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