I've got a lot of (what I think are) interesting things to show you today. You may have other ideas but, since I'm the boss of this blog, you're stuck with it.
Do you ever look at the change you get back when you buy something? Not just to count it to make sure the amount is correct but actually examine the coins? I usually don't either but something about one of the pennies I got back in a store last week caught my eye. Before dumping the handful of coins into my wallet I picked it up for a closer look. It's an 1899 Indian Head penny. I just about dropped it. It isn't in great shape, probably not worth much more than face value, but it's 116 years old and I'm keeping it. I might take it to the coin guy next to the Shell station for a look see and a little keeper for it (rather than the plastic bag I have it in right now) but even if it's only worth a penny, I'm keeping it. Interesting old things need to be kept (she says as she ages semi-gracefully hoping someone will think she's interesting enough to keep when she's 116).
The sky was particularly pretty this morning when I opened the curtains. I woke up at 5:30 for no good reason and couldn't go back to sleep (my mind turned on and the gremlin that lives in the back jumped up and said, "let's sing a song!" I couldn't shut him up--and the song was "Ten Little Indians" I guess the penny generated that one) I noticed that the cardinals are at the birdbath at daybreak. They're very skittish and seldom visit for a drink during the day so I was pleased to see Mr. Cardinal having his morning sip. Didn't get a picture but I saw him.
I meant to have both of the teacups crocheted AND felted by tonight's knitting guild meeting but you see how far I got. Monday I was busy at work, Tuesday I was busy here, and yesterday I felt like I was working in the International House of Neoprene. A huge wetsuit order came, two giant boxes of them. They're heavy and well-packed so there's lots of unpacking and unfolding (kind of like getting a deeply asleep toddler out of a snowsuit; they're limp and seem to have too many appendages), then there's the mountain of (non-recyclable) bags and Styrofoam sheets and tubes to compress into a manageable glob for the trash. I will say that LC would have had a blast with all the short, narrow tubes and the long sheets of fabric-like Styrofoam which is kind of like unperforated paper towels. I don't know what she'd have done with it but I know she'd have had fun.
The last of Dad's roses are nearly bloomed out but I thought the rose hips looked pretty, big and plump, as they change from green to red, and the only surviving mums are blooming up a storm. Our maple tree has shed over half its leaves and the remaining ones are a gorgeous red-orange. I just wish this early beauty didn't presage an impending demise. I need to get the city arborist over to look at the tree.
October 8--Philip H. Coblentz, Santorini, Greece. The doorway reminded Lily of a Cubist painting. Sharp edges of color, light, and shadow popped off the creamy white stucco, even the horizon line merely separated two shades of blue. The only softness, and it could barely be called that, was the worn rush seat of the chair next to the door. She stood in the blazing sun and marveled at the perfect shade of dark blue on the shutters and the door, and the red-orange of the window frame and door overhang. She head the whisper of the sea on the pebble beach and knew she had been right to come. She picked up her bags, lifted the latch, and went through the blue door into a new phase of her life.
Not much action but it sure is pretty. See, now that wasn't so bad. Not too many pictures, not too many words. You have a great day. I'll have one too.