Illustrated

Today I managed to take pictures.  First these House Finches have been all over the platform feeder of a morning.  The males have raspberry pink on their face, breast, and tail.  The females are plain with a stripe or two.

 

My chore of the day was blowing and raking leaves.  Did I mention that I hate raking leaves?  But I had to do something.  Look at the solid carpet of leaves over the side yard.  I couldn't just leave them there, they'd kill the grass.  I used the leaf blower until both batteries were shot then raked the piles into one big amoeba shape.  While I was working the tree kept dropping leaves on my head like some pesky kid's bid for attention.  I ignored it.  Mostly.

 

Six trips with the tarp later and the leaves were at the curb.  Now, there were still some leaves on the grass but I'm not fanatical about cleaning it off, I just wanted the bulk of them moved.  I'm still thinking that maybe I'll haul out the lawn mower on Monday and mow around one more time if it stays nice.  That should chop the leaves into small, mulch size pieces.

 

I think my Christmas cactus might be going to bloom.  I happened to glance at it and saw this bud had gotten bigger.  I'll keep an eye on it and report.

 

 

We had another beautiful sunset tonight.  This picture doesn't do the sky justice.  The clouds were a brighter orange than this and the very air looked pink.  I love when that happens.

06 November--Barbara Malcolm, The Seaview. 

Chapter 8

When I got back to my room I had another email from Will.  I could barely push back the doubts that his email barrage planted in my mind.  I wanted him to be my cheerleader, to support me as I’ve always supported him but he’s my cautious child.

"Things are going well," I typed, "I'm hoping that the container of supplies should arrive in a couple of days.  Demolition is going well too.  Silas has me pulling nails out to reclaim them and the wood."  Maybe if I show him that my workers aren’t only thinking of money, that they aren’t fleecing me, maybe he’ll let up.  “I have the name of a licensed electrician and we’re meeting in the morning.  I hope he’s not too pricey.”

Oh, I probably shouldn’t have said that, Will’s recurring worry is money.  I am for sure not telling him about the fire.  I smell it and taste it on my clothes.

“Will, for the love of god, stop being such a worrier.  I’m fine.  The islanders are friendly and helpful and, no, they’re not helping themselves to my money.  You remember I told you about Johnno who owns the beach bar two doors down?  He’s Silas’ dad and he brought us lunch just out of neighborliness.  He said he wanted me to know that not all Anguillans are drunken vandals.”

Oh no, can’t write that… backspace, backspace, backspace.

“Johnno is a big, good-hearted man eager to make me feel welcome.”

Better, much better.

“You’d like Silas and Edward who are helping tear out the rotten parts.  They’re funny and they’re hard workers.  Very polite, too, they call me Mrs. Rose.  I like that.  Please try not to worry so much, Will.  I really am okay and know what I’m doing.  Say hi to Elizabeth for me.  Love to you both, Mom”

I hit send and wonder if I’ve said too much or maybe too little.  One of these days Will might realize that I can take care of myself.

Today's toss was some outdated canned goods.

I've been sitting down every afternoon to transcribe an old story trying to jump start my story brain and I think it's working.  The last three days I've written a tiny scene for the day's prompt.  That's a good sign.  Thank heavens.

--Barbara