I command it. (and we all know how well THAT usually works) Durwood slept a bit better last night and his neck's not quite as stiff as it was. It seems not a lot less painful (or maybe he has better drugs) but at least he's reassured that he's not teetering on the brink. Whew. I'm running out of starch for my spine and smiles.
Our honeysuckle's beginning to bloom, which means the neighborhood hummingbirds will be calling more frequently. That's a very good thing. You can see how sunny the day will be by the lovely GRAY sky. Bah. The vine could use a good trimming and I might get around to it this weekend, there's a lot of dead wood--naturally on our side of the privacy screen. Seems like this is the year when it gets cut waaaaay back in the fall once again so it'll be fuller come spring. I'll put that on my list.
June 12--David Roentgen--Cylinder-Fall Desk with Cabinet Top. Lots of letters have been written at this desk. Minna's desk. When I was a little girl Minna was on old woman, stooped, gray-haired, and she walked with a cane, but I remembered her sitting there in the morning light reading letters and writing them. She talked to those letters as if the person were there before her. That paper and pen were every bit as alive as email or texting is today. When I came into the room Minna would pull out the lowest drawer, hand me a lined pad and a nice sharp pencil, and tell me to write someone a letter. I wrote to my dog, my teddy bear, to Mama, and once to a particularly pretty fish that Daddy had caught, but I don't remember ever writing to Minna. I should have. She was the one who taught me the value of putting pen to paper. I write at her desk quite often...
After that there are only scribbles since that's when the sandman ambushed me and sent me sliding down the slippery slope to dreamland. I did manage to pry my eyes open to put my pencil, notebook, and glasses aside but that was all she wrote. (har) Enjoy your day. Kiss someone on the cheek even if they don't think they need it. Time to get my day started. I have no soup for lunches this week so I have to make a sandwich. Horrors. There will be soup-making on the weekend, never fear.
--Barbara
1 comment:
Just on the cheek? Where's the fun in that?
Glad Dad's feeling better!
Post a Comment