Ray
Gulf Shores, the third week. Seventy degrees, and a fog off the water in the mo…
saved Feb 3, 2019 16:20date Feb 3, 2019
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1question
What it says
Gulf Shores, the third week. Seventy degrees, and a fog off the water in the mornings that burns away by ten.
R. has walked to the pier and back every day, four miles, and is brown and nearly cheerful. He stops for every dog on the beach. There is a yellow Lab that comes down at eight with an old man in a Navy cap, and R. knows its name, its age and where it came from.
I have read "The Overstory" out on the balcony, about trees and the people who lose their heads over them. It is too long and too angry, and I will not look at the white pines up north in the same way again.
Home Saturday.
Fields
| Date | 2019-02-03 16:20 |
|---|
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Questions that use it
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q036 Make me a list of every book I have written about in my journal.
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{
"$type": "n_type_journal_entry",
"id": "n_journal_2019_02_03",
"createdAt": "1549210800000",
"date": "2019-02-03T16:20:00.000Z",
"body": "Gulf Shores, the third week. Seventy degrees, and a fog off the water in the mornings that burns away by ten.\n\nR. has walked to the pier and back every day, four miles, and is brown and nearly cheerful. He stops for every dog on the beach. There is a yellow Lab that comes down at eight with an old man in a Navy cap, and R. knows its name, its age and where it came from.\n\nI have read \"The Overstory\" out on the balcony, about trees and the people who lose their heads over them. It is too long and too angry, and I will not look at the white pines up north in the same way again.\n\nHome Saturday.\n"
}
Source
personas/retired-couple/records/journal-2016-2019.yaml:585
- id: journal-2019-02-03
kind: journal_entry
about: [ray]
date: 2019-02-03 16:20
body: |
Gulf Shores, the third week. Seventy degrees, and a fog off the water in the mornings that burns away by ten.
R. has walked to the pier and back every day, four miles, and is brown and nearly cheerful. He stops for every dog on the beach. There is a yellow Lab that comes down at eight with an old man in a Navy cap, and R. knows its name, its age and where it came from.
I have read "The Overstory" out on the balcony, about trees and the people who lose their heads over them. It is too long and too angry, and I will not look at the white pines up north in the same way again.
Home Saturday.