Three perfect spiderwebs in the dead branches of the redbud tree in the yard. We drove 2 hours northwest to get to Gus's soccer game. The sun was high and blazing. A shadowless world. From some adjacent playing field I heard a voice sounding for all the world like a rodeo announcer call out "Bob King #12" which set me wondering just what sort of storyline I'd worked myself into. In the evening we all walked over to the Davis to see "Evolution". Very silly.