Summer Growing, Weeder’s Day 20, Year of the Lion number 427; July 19, 1738 Agathon
I’m sorry I don’t write in this journal every day. Some days I’m too tired to stay up and do it, while others there’s just nothing interesting to write about.
I should qualify that. There’s always something interesting. The sun rising in the morning is interesting. The stars and the constellations are interesting. The trees and the wildlife, with their seeming infinite variety, is interesting. The people I travel with are interesting. To be honest, I sometimes don’t have a good excuse, other than that I just don’t feel like it.
I suppose the day that feeling wins is the day this story ends. Ha ha.
Anyway, the constant rain finally stopped a couple days ago. Storms still sprung up, but instead of the endless dreariness, we get flash bangs where one minute there’d be sunshine, the next a thunderstorm, and back to sunshine a few minutes later. One time the storm moved so quickly we couldn’t get into the wagons fast enough and we were all soaking wet. We laughed and giggled like children.
Today the road, still following the river, left the forest. The trees thinned for a few hours then were gone. Open plains, gentle rolling hills, and thick underbrush. Thick from the rains. Tall weeds sported bright-colored blossoms; swarms of bees visited each flower like shoppers in a giant market stopping each vendor and haggling prices.
I didn’t get an opportunity to show-up the guards this evening. Lena and Alani insisted we resume our rehearsals. The next settlement was only a couple days away. Lena wanted us ready, and she planned to charge for tickets at the door. The guards did manage a good catch today and we enjoyed the roasted boar meat.
And for the first time in what seemed like years, I get to stretch out under the stars tonight.
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