I should be writing.  The literary trifecta are in reach: laptop, coffee, Annie Dillard books.  But even so,  I can’t stop watching the breeze play with the steam off my coffee.  It’s mesmerizing, like a hands-on lava lamp.  Just as the sunlight catches the swirls, they vanish.  Diffused.  It’s normal and romantic, ethereal and earthy. … Read More