I forgot how much I enjoy silence. The world is noisy; silence rare. And too often I turn on the radio or TV, just for company, or to drown out my tinnitus. I seldom really listen. One afternoon I walked home through Mellon Park and suddenly heard silence. The dogs that run loose while owners stand around talking were not there. It was just me and the squirrels and trees–not even traffic sounds and I can't recall the tinnitus. Totally wonderful.
The next day, driving out of the garage after the cardio rehab, I had a similar experience. I could only hear a soft purr from the car and a rhythmic slap as the tires hit expansion joints. What a joy it would be to permanently get rid of that noise in my head.
Another pleasure: Saturday night, Steve's cactus produced it's occasionally, yearly blossom.
We don't know anything about the cactus. It's a cutting from a large plant that belonged to Steve's father. The cutting was dormant for many years then suddenly began to grow. About seven years ago it began to produce one or more flowers one night each summer (with the exception of last year). The flower opens only once. Although various flying insects visit it, no fruit or seed is produced.