The sun crossed the horizon this morning at 6:10. It hugs the edge of the first window now, just as I am beginning to hug the edge of summer. The meadowlarks are gone, but Sandhill cranes continue to call from the river, and flickers checkout the cottonwood tree and the flagpole in the yard. When I am alone like this I both revel in my surroundings and wonder why I am here on my own. It puts me in mind of so many before me who have spent time alone with their surroundings in Montana. Hollywood nearly wiped out the loneliness of that venture, but I suspect it was real.