Hawk! Hawk! Hawk! And One Bluejay

The Red-tailed Hawk has been hanging around our backyard lately.  We don't mind.  I was fixing supper last night (heating up leftovers) when Durwood said, "The hawk's in the grass.  I think it caught something."  Well, it hadn't but it sure gave a good hard look to that spot.  Then it hop-flew up onto the retaining wall and I was amazed at how a brown and white bird could be camoflaged against green plants (aka weeds).  This morning it did its vulture impression from the top of the fence.  Still didn't catch anything.







The only bird that isn't fussed by the arrival of the hawk is the bluejay.  It metaphorically thumbs its nose at the predator and goes about its business wriggling a peanut out of the wreath.  Evidently the local squirrels are either on vacation or they're too wary of the hawk because my assistant and I filled that wreath on Friday and there are still nuts left.






I made the lemon-lime-orangeade to take to my campfire supper with Lala today.  It looks very yummy.  I tasted it right after I made it, it was a little tart but I'm sure the flavor has improved with age.  I think it's very pretty.




Last night (after an afternoon nap and after supper) I went downstairs to sew up the pants I cut out last week.  While cutting them out I questioned why I had traced off a one-size-smaller pants pattern than the top and dress patterns I did the same day.  I measured myself, honest I did, but my fears came true and the pants, while I can get them on, I suspect that there's not much chance of successfully sitting down in them--more than once.  I might have enough of the striped seersucker left to cut out another pair, especially since I'm thinking I'd crop them, so that will be my project at work next Wednesday (Retirement Day #-4).  I want to make a "practice" pair that I like the fit of before I cut into any of the "real" pants fabric I have waiting downstairs.

In the "Better Late Than Never" Department: I have been gifted with quite a bit of pink wool so after checking with DIL1 to make sure she and LC will wear them, I'm going to knit 3 Pussy Hats.  I didn't knit any last fall because I didn't have any pink yarn and, honestly, there wasn't much to be found even if I wanted to buy any.  I've been working diligently to knit solely from my stash so I didn't knit any hats.  Now I have pink yarn, now I'll knit us some hats.  I figure that bandwagon has a wide and welcoming tailgate just waiting for us latecomers to clamber aboard.  (and if I hold 2 or 3 strands together I can use big needles and be done knitting pink [ugh] yarn faster, sorry, my prejudice is showing)

June 18--John Gay, A Father and Daughter Sail a Model Yacht in the Sea, Blackpool.  He has his trousers rolled up to the very tops of his thighs and is still in a white shirt and sport coat, yet there he stands, knee-deep in the sea, helping his daughter sail her toy boat.  He's not the only person wading in street clothes either, there's a whole gaggle of them.  The water can't be very warm, only one swimmer is visible, and the air must be cool too because people are in sweaters.  What were they thinking?  First to go into the sea when it's too cold and then to go in clothes.

And now I'm going to make sure I have enough clean underwear and socks and my toothbrush packed so I can drive away from home for a couple nights.  Not too far, just far enough to clear my head and pretend I've run away.  Durwood's looking forward to not having me here too, I am sure.  Don't worry, I'm taking the laptop so I'll keep blogging.
--Barbara