I was moving Beverly, my car, so that Durwood could leave to meet friends for breakfast and a morning of chat, that's what I was doing. And I'm telling and showing you that because "8 o'clock" is the Photo a Day theme for today and I don't want to wait until 8 o'clock tonight to take the picture. I'm so glad that Tanya posted about doing Photo a Day way back in May or June. I've really enjoyed taking a daily photo or digging back into my archives for the perfect shot. (huh, look at that, I have archives, I must be cool... or a hoarder... nah, cool) It has helped me to really look at my surroundings every day. It has renewed my appreciation for small things like raindrops in the birdbath, clouds, sunRISES (I always appreciated sunsets), "our" Cooper's Hawk that landed on the fence yesterday, and ol' Durwood. Poor man, he gets to be my morning photo subject too often for his taste, I'm sure, but he's a good sport, that Durwood. I need to get a move on with this, hop (okay, ease) onto the exer-cycle, pedal a few miles, shower, and... and do stuff. We had kohlrabi for a veg last night and we saved the leaves so I can take them over to Henny & Penny. "The ladies" like leaves and we like their eggs. Maybe I'll stop by the pet food store for a squeaky ball for Porter. I can't go with treats for the grand-chickens without one for the grand-dog too, that would be mean. I want to strip the sheets so I can be laundering them this afternoon when I'm downstairs doing secret sewing (teeheehee) and I want to see about getting a new cellphone battery at Radio Shack or maybe Walmart. God, I hate going to Walmart on the weekend. It's so crowded any old day and now that it's getting to be Christmas AND there's a home Packer game tomorrow, it'll be a zoo. And not a zoo in the happy sense of the word either. A battery'll probably cost almost as much as the phone did but I'd really rather not have to transfer all my numbers, etc. so I'll look into it. The phone's not holding a charge like it used to. But then who is? Certainly not me.
December 1--Alfred Sisley, The Road from Versailles to Louveciennes. The storm chased her all the way home. Riva felt it like a creature growling and pushing the air before it. She heard the far-off roll of thunder and the nearing hiss of falling rain, and lifted her skirts and ran to stay ahead of it. For its part, the storm seemed to delight in pelting her ankles with grit and gravel, and sending leaves to skitter alongside her before the gusty wind. The trees along the road flung themselves in a frenzy, shaking their branches and flinging twigs to patter down in the dry grass. She ran faster letting the wind push her along, happy to see the golden porch light wink at her through the shifting shadows.
Now you and I both know that poor Riva isn't going to make it to the light dry and unmolested, right? Right. Can you say "foreshadowing"? Can you say "over-active imagination"? Fun, isn't it. I'm off to pedal my ass... to nowhere.