Pink Clouds in the Morning...

... I can't think of a decent rhyme... but aren't those clouds pretty against the blue sky?  This is supposed to be the last day of the warm for a while.  Things are supposed to deteriorate starting tomorrow dragging us back into the 20s and 30s and making frozen water products fall from the sky.  As long as they don't turn into ice when they hit the ground, I don't mind. This is the last of the patio glacier to be seen.  This patch is about the size of a throw rug.  One bad thing about all the warm temps is that hardly any birds come to the feeders because other food sources thaw out and open up as it gets warm.  Although I did notice a chipmunk yesterday morning and thought, oh, the hawk should be here, and whoosh a big, gray shape swept past the patio doors.  It was unsuccessful because the chipmunk stood on the step and watched me do my yoga this morning.  Maybe the hawk got a bird, maybe a sparrow, that'd be okay with me.




I saw a peek of green yesterday and confirmed it this morning.  There are daffodils poking their noses up in front of the house.  Granted it's a south-facing brick wall so we've got a micro-climate going on there but I'm always so excited to see those brave little sprouts.





See the thumb on the black mitten?  That's the entirety of my knitting on Wednesday.  It's 2-1/2 inches long and it took me three tries--knit, rip, knit, cuss, rip, knit--to get it right.  I put my knitting in time-out until after supper last night so I'm hoping the thumb on the yellow-gold mitten behaves today.

February 22--Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Venice (The Doge's Palace)  The light was different.  Greg stood outside his hotel trying to figure it out.  He finally decided that it was the canals, all that water reflecting and refracting the light made Venice unique.  He walked along watching the Italians talking with every part of their bodies.  Arms, hands, and eyebrows all adding emphasis and nuance to what was probably a conversation about where to buy the freshest fruit or whose dry cleaner was better.  He wished he lived his life with half of the passion he saw in their faces and heard in their voices.  His hands were sunk deep in his pockets when a woman linked her arm through his and moved close.  "Please," she said in a hoarse whisper, "pretend to be glad to see me.  They don't want a scene."  He felt her tremble and drew her close, dipping his head down to kiss her cheek.  "I wondered where you'd gone," he said just a bit too loudly.  "I could use a drink."

Man, I wish I was in Venice right now, don't you?  I'd like to be anywhere where I didn't have any "have tos" and "shoulds" in my days.  I feel like I'm getting to the age where those words should be phasing out of my calendar.  I get to work today but first I get to go have my bones rearranged.  Ahh, it feels so good even if it doesn't last long enough.
--Barbara