The Mr. This Morning

I was just about to go outside to top up the birdbath when I saw a flutter of green and red in the honeysuckle.  It was Mr. Hummingbird come for breakfast.  I managed to carefully close the patio door without scaring him off, grab the camera, and take a couple of pictures, one of which is sort of in focus.  But I'm thrilled that his ruby red throat is so visible.  He's a much deeper green than the females too.



A poppy bloomed overnight.  Look how gorgeous it is.  I especially love the deep deep purple of its center.  More to come.






I carefully scanned the area in front of the back board behind the asparagus and found a few tiny sunflower sprouts.  I'm hoping at least a couple of them survive to maturity.  Fingers crossed.






The lettuces are coming along.  Man, I have got to find some sort of shaker for next year.  Look how clumpy they are.  Good thing seeds are cheap.  Maybe I can swing by Goodwill tomorrow and find another packet of them or I suppose I could go to an actual garden store... but then I'm in danger of buying more plants and I really don't have places for them... although there are a few pots on the old broken-down park bench that aren't planted... NO!  No, Barbara, no.  You have enough to do without adding more work.





Last night's Marinated Pork Fried Rice was a triumph, if I do say so myself.  I found a recipe on Taste of Home that I adjusted to our tastes and dietary preferences.  Doesn't it look good?  I was especially proud of myself for picking a chive blossom and garnishing our bowls with the deconstructed blossoms.  How very cool of me, don't you think?  However, I don't think the mild chive flavor was strong enough to compete with the dish but it looked pretty and I tore another blossom apart to sprinkle on the salads I made to take to work this week.  (counting today, I work for 10 more days--but who's counting?)




June 5--Torello Ancillotti, Redness of the Evening.  Cilla wore her favorite white skirt with the pink floral bodice they had made from Mama's confirmation dress.  Her jacket was dusty pink and fitted her perfectly.  Topping it all was her summer straw hat with its cascade of white tulle and ribbons.  She knew she looked her best so when the artist told her to sit on the ground beside the river with her feet almost in the water she nearly balked, but he had flattered her, telling her, "you will look like a beautiful rose sitting there with the sweep of the river before you."  Then he had pressed his lips to her temple which made her breathing feel tight.  She sat where he told her to even though she felt the dampness come through her skirt almost immediately.  He touched her cheek to make her turn her head, placed her hand out beside her to lean on.  She felt her skin warm wherever he touched her.

I am so not accustomed to working on Monday anymore so it was a real struggle to get my feces consolidated this morning to get here semi-on-time.  I would have been here on time except I got caught between two dump trucks on Seventh St. where they're replacing storm sewers in preparation for resurfacing that street and ours too.  It should be a colossal mess most of the summer since Seventh St. is the sole way to access our little neighborhood.  Yippee.
--Barbara