The weight of cloud covering the summit of 101, weaving the morning, dim lit through the weight of the air. A different approach today, the machine rather than the aeropress, the mood calling for espresso; another reading day, once brain functions resume. The sky remains heavy, pavements wet beneath the damp shelter of umbrellas, a continuation of yesterday but also a declination, the chill's back in the air, springs late. Spring's late, the phrase flowing into images, memories of mountains, their tops snow covered, cold air gathering studded with slushy rain.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dPBY3vBFWmA&t=2394s

Looking out of the window only the proximate towers of the city rising, the sounds of traffic and construction. Taking a break, sitting with another cup, memories drifting in and out of focus, faces and voices caught up in the introspection trailing down from the hillside, the sense of distances.

The day dimmed, an early night beginning to fall, out for another short wander, looking for a blip but, as before, there's little catching my eye, nothing to encourage the effort of pointing the camera. Walking back to the flat I recall that this firefly season, that I missed them last year, that I've never seen them, take a detour to the Eco park, a few figures standing around the entrance, others looking into the darkened stream, illuminating it with the light from their phones.

Inside figures are walking behind torchlight, I wonder why they don't just let their eyes acclimatise to the gloom. It never gets truly dark here, only ever city dark, light pollution spilling from the streets and, tonight with the low clouds the sky still bright although the sun set over an hour ago. But, in the undergrowth, a light flickering on and off, floating, another and then as the last of the torches move away and spillage from the entrance is lost around a corner, there's a flurry. Finding myself standing grinning, following the flashes of light as they dance through the halflight, weaving wonderment between dull shadows and the outlines of the vegetation. The sound of the stream flowing to my right, croaking toads and late birdsong merging with rustling leaves, the distances of traffic, bin lorries playing Beethoven somewhere in the streets beyond...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5oSa4itomE