Okay, it really isn't, it's still as humid as Evansville, Indiana in August but I got the last hexagons and lone square made for the bling stocking yesterday at work and sewed them together last night after supper. No, really, this origami of yarn will, with a few folds and a little stitching, become a shiny new Christmas stocking for one of the two new men in my life. I hope he likes it. I plan to whip out a few preemie hats as "palate cleanser" projects before tackling a stocking for the other new man in my life. I'll use the same pattern but different yarn colors and texture. I made this same one when DS was a newborn so, in my feeble and slippery mind, it typifies a boy's stocking. Besides I like it.
A bluejay came to nibble fallen seed and corn this morning. Actually a whole flock of bluejays came to perch in the apple tree but only one was brave enough to swoop down for a snack. Bluejays are noisy, announcing their arrival with a caaaaak, but they're easily scared away by a sparrow or two.
Dad's rose has another bud just opening. It was looking good with dew (or raindrops) sparkling on it in the gray and dreary morning. Thanks, Dad.
September 8--Michael DeYoung, Puddle Bicycle. Lynn turned the corner on the trail. The pavement was still wet from the night's rain so her back tire slid a bit. She coasted to slow down until she felt her balance waver, then she shifted gears, and pedaled slower. A large flock of Canada Geese waddled across the trail toward the river. She smiled when she realized that there were a half-dozen adult geese surrounding twenty or so goslings. The fluffy gray babies pecked at the ground, at insects flying away, and at each other. Lynn stopped riding to watch the adults urge the babies into the river where they bobbed like a raft of fuzzy, peeping wind-up toys.
Now I'm off to work and Durwood's off to Woodman's because he's out of tea bags and we're down to a lone head of cauliflower. *gasp* Out of veggies? Call the paramedics. Or a dietician. See ya.