Getting Red

I was surveying the garden hoping for a change (and eating 3 blueberries that had ripened) when I spotted a tinge of red (that wasn't a plant stick fooling me).  Some of the Sugary cherry tomatoes are turning red.  Yippee!  I'd put on 2 exclamation points if only a $%#&* bunny or a #&*%^ chipmunk hadn't taken a nibble out of the reddest one, but soon there'll be too many red ones for a raiding rodent to keep up with and Durwood and I will get one--each.  Pretty soon.

Durwood has been fascinated by the big spider that builds its web just out the patio doors and he finally got a couple pictures of it.  Clear ones, I mean, focused ones.  It's very hard to focus on such a tiny speck.  He had less luck with the whole focus thing when trying to snap a picture of a chickadee perched on the hand of my menopausal goddess hanging from the eaves but you can still see it.  I'd love to get him a digital SLR camera, you know, one with lenses and stuff but the price is a little high for my budget.  Maybe I can find a used one from someone trading up.


Today's flowers are the usual--lilies and daisies--but the dark red lilies down by the street have bloomed and I can't resist that sea of white daisies basking in the morning sun so you get to look at them again.  The echinacea's almost got its petals unfurled.  I kind of like the way it looks like a flower scaffolding with what looks like the underpinning of the petals jutting out.

Look !  I wrote!

July 14--Gustav Klimt, Mada Primavesi.  She hated the bow.  It was big and heavy and it felt like a weight stuck to her hair.  She thought it made her look all lopsided and it didn't match her dress.  There were no bows on her dress, only flowers, and none of the flowers were the color of the bow.  Larissa decided she was not going to smile in the picture.  No matter what the painter did or said she wouldn't smile.  She would stand still for as long as it took, for as long as it took for the bow to get all droopy so it ended up looking like a piece of crumpled paper stuck to her head.  She was nine years old and no one could make her smile when she didn't want to.  Her fist hit her hip, elbow jutting out, and the painter said, "There!  Stay just like that."

I get to work today.  I already have my paycheck because I worked on Saturday and it was in the bag with the cash register money so I nabbed it.  That'll save me one errand tomorrow and I'm feeling over-erranded lately.  I know I'll have at least one customer because someone rented a couple tanks on Saturday but I'm guessing Mrs. Boss brought back the other guy's rental gear because she had a Fun Dive yesterday and he went.  Maybe I can just lay my head down on the desk and rest.  Remember those days in grade school when the class had been in an uproar and the teacher made all of us put our heads down to rest for 15 minutes?  No?  I remember that quite clearly, mostly because I was a goody-two-shoes and thought it was unfair because I hadn't been bad.  Time to make lunches, eat breakfast, shower, and flee for the day.  Oh, I just remembered I have a tank to drop off at Van's, I'd better get a move on.  Ta-ta!
--Barbara