I was surprised to see that there are still a couple poppies just opening in the sea of poppies dropping their petals. Ahh, poppies. (add your own soundtrack, can you say "Wizard of Oz"?)
Too early to be out of bed this morning (thanks for dropping your flashlight onto the plastic office mat under this chair at 5:15, Durwood), the last of last night's storm clouds were headed east. I was out around 10 o'clock last night and the sky was alight with lightning and rumbled with thunder. And there was rain, of course, but it very considerately slacked off just as I pulled into the driveway and waited until I got into the house before it started up again. Thanks, Mother Nature.
The Red-tailed Hawk was hunting from the top of the office building behind us this morning but looking the other way so I didn't see if he was successful.
I think we might be having home-grown lettuce for supper tonight. I know we're having home-grown asparagus. Yum.
When you get married the more affluent of your parents' friends give advanced technology gifts. Mom and Dad got this juicer as a wedding gift in September of 1950 and I rescued it from her last rummage sale in about 1980. I love the thing, it works great and it never breaks down. My friend Lala is going camping and she invited me to drive down for supper tomorrow night. I said I'd bring the lemonade, then found this recipe for Aunt Frances' Lemonade
on Taste of Home. It sounds so good, I'm making it. I plan to freeze
some of it to use as non-diluting ice cubes. (aren't I just the
cleverest thing?) I had to break down and go to Meijer for the citrus, I went to Pick 'N Save (used to be Copps) where the walnut-size lemons were 99 cents each. Each! And they didn't have Valencia (juice) oranges, navel oranges just don't squeeze like the Valencias. I mean, you can squeeze them but the juice isn't as tasty. Don't know why, old wives' lore. Before I make it I need to zoom over to the Dollar Tree to find a gallon plastic jug to take it in, one that I can leave with Lala so she won't go thirsty. The store's only a block away, it isn't much of a trip.
June 17--Utagawa Kuniyoshi, Japanese Warloard Minamoto no Yoritomo. He is resplendent in his regalia. The Japanese warlord's armor is layer upon layer of embroidered silk under leather panels painted and gilded. He bristles with a sheathed sword, knives in ornate sheaths, and a trio of throwing stars on his breastplate. He must have clanked and clattered as he paraded in to see the emperor. Gloria stood admiring the panel, leaning forward to see the tiny lines of his hair and the small smile on his face. Her son, Lewis, leaned on her hip as she studied the painting. She felt him shift from foot to foot, his tennis shoe squeaking on the polished floor. "Mom?" he said. "Yeah?" He shifted again working up to ask his question. "How did he go to the bathroom in all that stuff?" Gloria didn't laugh. "Well," she said, "he probably went just before he left home, same as you do." She turned to move to the next exhibit, her hand on her son's shoulder. "Yeah, probably," he said.
All of a sudden I'm tired. My eyes are burning and I could lay down. It couldn't be because I was rudely, although accidentally, awakened at 5:15 and couldn't get back to sleep, could it? Maybe I'll take a nap...