July 9, 2026

Good morning!

It’s Thursday, and we’ve come down the long dirt road to stand in the room where I slept when I was a kid. It’s warm and quiet and instantly comforting.

Tucked in my bed under the eaves, I’d drift off to sleep listening to the bell buoy or the rustling leaves or the gentle sound of rain on the roof—and, always, the swoosh and high-pitched squeak of the bats as they made their nightly rounds to clear the bedroom of mosquitoes. Being a mosquito magnet, my initial fear of bats was quickly replaced with respect and gratitude for their service.

I’ve opened the window to bring in some fresh air. But I’ve left the curtain closed so we can watch the wind as well as feel it.

“All the windows of my heart I open to the day.”

—John Greenleaf Whittier

Onwards,

Clara