May 23--Auguste Renoir, In the Meadow. The unmown grass was like velvet in the shade. Marie leaned on her hand and she delighted in the cool dampness. She was tempted to lie down and let it soak into every molecule but she wasn't eager to get her dress and all her underthings damp. It had been a hot walk out there from the village. She might have changed her mind about walking so far on such a hot day but Juliette was not one to change her mind. If she decided that they were having a picnic on Tuesday then they were having a picnic on Tuesday. For all her blond softness, Juliette was a force to be reckoned with.
You have a fantabulous day. I intend to do my damnedest to have one too. Ta-ta!