Monday, August 10th, 2020

A drone outside the window howls like a mechanized throat singer. I think the neighbors across the fence are trimming their trees again. A deep tone jumps up and down by about a whole step. Overtones cut in and out. The machine is probably in motion, with different obstructions between the source and my ears. At first, the sound is grating. Eventually, as I sit far from the window, it becomes warm and interesting. When it ends, I miss it. I turn the air conditioner on, then off again. It’s humid but cool. It rains later in the day, or so I’m told. I don’t hear it happen. I see an article online that says that it has. I send a text to my family here. “Just traces,” they say. “Like snow flurries, it didn't stick.” I open the door to see if the ground got wet. It’s too dark for me to tell, but the air smells fresh, like it does after a sun shower. This happens in the summer, but rarely, when there’s low air pressure over the nearby sea. It may happen again tomorrow. One forecast says that we’ll have lower temperatures. Another says we won't. Unless I stick my head outside, I may not be able to tell.