Sat zazen for half an hour before sunrise. Jasmine tea on the deck. Birds doing their usual spring chatter while the rest of the world rattles its saber.
Last night, Israel hit Iranian nuclear sites. This morning, the amateur radio bands are alive. Heavy skip from the east. Russians on 20 meters sounding calm, measured. A few Persian voices trying to keep contact open. The tension sits just behind the words. Everyone’s listening, nobody’s saying much.
Made a trip to town mid-morning. Needed an oil filter and oil for the truck - routine maintenance, nothing fancy. Stopped by the co-op. The fishmongers are always there on Fridays, and I remembered my bride had mentioned she wanted tobiko. Picked up a pound for her. She returns home late tonight.
Worked the goats and fed the dogs. Gave them each a marrow bone and let them gnaw in peace. There's a satisfaction in doing what's always been done, even while the world plays with matches.
Hard to say what comes next. Iran may posture. It may strike. Or maybe it won't. Pride is louder than wisdom in that part of the world, but it isn’t just them.
I don’t pretend to know the answers, but I can feel the question growing teeth.
Kept the radio running low in the shed while I sharpened tools. If anything shifts, it’ll come through the airwaves first.
The land here is still, just wind through pine.
I’ll sleep light tonight.
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