Everybody Into The Puddle!

It was pouring rain this morning and our resident flock of juncos were having an enthusiastic bath. Some were in the fountain saucers, some were in the birdbath, and a few were making do with the puddles on the patio. It was fun to watch them flap and splash until one crabby sparrow chased them away so he could bathe in solitary splendor. Spoilsport.

The rain has fixed it so that I don't have to rake or plant today. The orange carpet of maple leaves will continue to protect the front lawns and the grocery sack of bulbs will stay in the kitchen safe from rake tines or cold ground. Maybe next weekend. I have a habit of waiting until it's deadly cold and windy to finish my autumn yard work. God forbid it should be sweatshirt instead of parka weather when I'm out there working.

We had a prospective renter stop the other afternoon and are both praying that he decides to move in. We should hear tomorrow or Tuesday. Keep your fingers crossed.

October 22--Takeshima, Japan. Max and Rae had been in Japan long enough that they no longer trusted their eyes. Too much of the landscape looked like a diorama. All of the gates, "Shinto" Max insisted, that stood out like arbors with nowhere to go annoyed Rae. "I never know if I should go through or around," she said. "Some of 'em frame a view, sorry, a vista and others a statue, but they seem kinda bossy, like they're pointing 'look there,' like we're not smart enough to know where to look." Max wanted to know how the tree trimmers got the big trees to mimic those bonsai trees that their guide tried to tell them were hundreds of years old. Now anyone with a lick of sense knows that a hundred year old tree, even a fifty year old one would be way too big to cram into one of those skinny little pots. In the same mood of frustration their young guide, Yoshi thought the American couple might have been happier visiting the Corn Palace and Wall Drug in their Midwest.

Oh, I like Max and Rae. And now I promised Durwood I'd go buy some red potatoes for tonight's supper of Smoky Po. He forgot and he's taking a nap. It's his new hobby, nap-taking.
--Barbara