tic clouds hiding the sunrise this morning. The dream I woke from before looking out my bedroom window was of finding myself alone in my wife's kitchen with my mother and my mother-in-law cheerfully teaming up to cook and clean and mother-hen me to within inches of my sanity. Then (in the dream) an email arrived from yet a third mothering figure in my life, my wife's elderly friend Carole, with a bit of laundry advice. In the dream, I jovially shared this email with my mother and mother-in-law, and we all had a good laugh about it. My mother and mother-in-law resumed their cooking and cleaning and mothering, and I stepped, cautiously and bare-footedly, into my wife's kitchen to survey the scene. Looking down, I saw what I took to be several small weeds growing out of the cracks between the floor tiles, and I bent down to pull one of them, concerned that the two mothers would be judging my wife for letting the kitchen go to seed like that, when I realized it was intentional. My wife had planted an herb garden in the cracks between the tiles of the kitchen floor. So I rose from my bed and looked out the window, checked my morning message from my beloved in Montreal (that is to say, the afore-mentioned wife), reported the dream and got a laughing emoji and an "omg, it sounds too realistic," descended the stairs to the kitchen (a different kitchen), prepared some coffee, stepped out into the backyard, the wind now much calmer than yesterday, and snapped a photo of the wildly whirling sky.

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The windstorm yesterday left the sky a dog's breakfast of frantic clouds hiding the sunrise this morning. The dream I woke from before looking out my bedroom window was of finding myself alone in my wife's kitchen with my mother and