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I had a nice relaxing couple days and drove home in pouring rain the last 10 miles, until I crossed the river and then it was dry.  It was cool to see the rain clouds and the rain shafts falling in the distance as I came up toward GB but less cool when the rain was so heavy that I had to put the wipers on the highest setting.  But we needed the rain.  Durwood said the garden got good rain on Sunday night so that was good.  All of the plants look happy in the garden.  I'm relieved since I kind of slammed them into the ground, watered them, and left them to fend for themselves for a couple days.

The poppies are getting ready to bloom.  I just love their fuzzy, walnut sized buds.  Those bud coverings fall off like shed hulls when the big orange flowers emerge.  And the yellow Asiatic lilies in front started to bloom too.

The hummingbirds have to be glad because the honeysuckle flowers are just about ready to open.


I took a walk along the river at sundown the other night and saw swallows nesting under the bridge, and don't you think that looks like a tropical sunset view?  I do but it's clouds over the lakeshore reflecting the sunset.  Still it's awful pretty.  Remember I said that there're boats when the river isn't iced over?  Here's proof.  See?  Boats tied up and one boat making a little wake.  Just like real water.

No real knitting progress so I have nothing to show.  I took my sprained ankle on a 15 minute stroll on the treadmill this morning.  So far, so good.

June 9--Jack Kenner, RDNZ019.  Looking down from the plane the land looked stitched in squares like quilt blocks.  Emma thought the fence posts looked like blanket-stitched crazy quilt patches made of green, gold, and brown fabrics.  The next time she was in her sewing room she found herself sorting through her fabric scraps, smoothing them out, and arranging them to replicate her bird's eye view.  A piece of brown corduroy from Dan's old barn pants was right for the plowed fields.  Pieces of Aunt Mary's gold damask tablecloth that was permanently stained when Leo made one too many toasts that blizzard Thanksgiving worked well for the fields of golden wheat.  Grandad's soft green plaid flannel shirt was just right for the fields of soybeans.  A strip from her own washed out and fatally torn jeans made a fine river that brought life-giving water to it all.  Her quilt portrait of the countryside turned out to be a portrait of her family too.

I wish I had fabrics like that to make stuff with.  Guess I'll have to stop Goodwill-ing things and save them instead.  No!  No, I will not fill up my house with "I might use this someday" stuff.  Down with stuff!  I already feel smothered by the volume of stuff around here.  I don't need more.  No, I don't.

--Barbara