The Morning Hawk

 

Again this morning the smaller of the two young hawks perched on top of the patio umbrella and loomed over a squawking squirrel.  After a while the hawk got tired of waiting and flew off but the squirrel kept squawking until I went outside to shoo it away.


 



I noticed when I went out that different flowers are blooming.  Here's the first bee balm flower.  I like these; I think they look like fireworks shooting off.






I planted this penstemon because bees are supposed to be attracted to them.  I should probably have planted more than one.

And then the day lilies are starting.  There are lots of buds on the two patches of orange day lilies.  I hope they take turns blooming so I have flowers for a long time.


 


More Stella d'Oro lilies too.  I chose these because they bloom for a longer time than other lilies, also they were on closeout, $1.50/plant.  I got a dozen of 'em. Who could pass that up?








I'm happy to see that the red day lilies are still blooming in front of the house.

 


 Tonight I finished Stuck-at-Home Warshrag #5.  I like the gray-green denim yarn of the bricks.  Not my usual bright, eye-popping red.





30 June--Barbara Malcolm, Tropical Obsession. 

She stumbled down the irregular cement steps to stand clutching the obviously handmade wall with gaps carved in it. Her knuckles grew white and tight with the strength of her grip. One of her nails, her red-painted acrylic nails, broke with a sharp crack and it flew out to fall into the sea like a drop of frozen blood.

This is where they found him, the Detective Inspector told her. This is where the couple of divers, a man and his wife from Wisconsin, were making the climb down, burdened by their scuba gear to dive at the site they call Thousand Steps, stopping to rest in this very spot. From here the wife saw Jack's body floating face down in the clear blue water and said to her husband how odd it was for the man to be snorkeling in a shirt, shorts and sandals when he realized that Jack was not snorkeling. That Jack was not lucky to be seeing barracuda so close. The wife had started shaking and ran up the steps as if she weren't wearing fifty pounds of gear. They drove to the petroleum tank farm at the top of the island to call the police, neither one of them willing to stand in the stillness of Thousand Steps to keep what was left of Jack company.

The sun was high when Mona finally awoke and squinted her way out to the patio. Yana was in the kitchen clattering pots around, but she took a moment to carry a mug of fresh-made coffee out and set it silently on a palm fiber mat on the glass-topped table. Her fingers rested ever so fleetingly on Mona's shoulder as she turned to go back to her work. Tears sprang to Mona's eyes at the simple gesture. The news of Jack's death must be all over the island, she thought. In the center of the table sat a clear glass bowl; three flowers floated on the surface, their yellow centers looking like a pinwheel of yolk in a fried egg. The petals were so waxy she had to touch them to see if they were real. She had the feeling that nothing would seem real for a time until she was allowed to leave the island and begin building a new life on the shreds of the old one that had died with Jack.

Today's toss was my old set of yellow Tupperware canisters that nest together like those Russian dolls.  I think tomorrow I'll have to tape together a box and start sorting through stuff again.  It's been easy to toss things the last couple days when I've found things already packaged but I think I've run out of those--for now.  Don't worry, I'm in no danger of running out of crap to toss anytime soon.  I am crap-rich.
--Barbara