I picked the first tomato on Friday. Duwood made it go away in the blink of an eye. I'll get a bite of the next one.
The poetry readings weren't the only things keeping me busy. Durwood's brother and sister-in-law came for a visit (stayed at the Holiday Inn so we didn't have to fling things down the basement stairs so they could get in the door) so all of yesterday was taken up with marathon visiting. The guys stayed at the motel and she came with me to my readings. We had a bit of time to wander through some shops between readings and then got back in time for them to go to Mass, then we took them to a good old Wisconsin supper club. They left early for their long drive home so today is a day of rest. Sorta. Well, we all know that I'm not good at sitting still. I went to Aldi for fruit and to Meijer for greens to make a cauldron of chicken soup and take advantage of their "10 for $10" specials on yogurt and Durwood's favorite canned soup. I might have also gotten the makings of blueberry tartlets. (hey, blueberries were 3 pints for 5 bucks, I couldn't leave them there and those tiny pie shells aren't very expensive)
How hot and humid is it? This is how the patio door looked when I opened the drapes this morning so it was still hot enough and humid enough to fog up the cool glass. I guess there was a storm last night and it just rained for about 10 minutes like it didn't intend to stop. Thank god for air conditioning.
Look, there are buds on the sole surviving stargazer lily. I can't wait until they open. Won't be long now.
I didn't write the prompt Friday night or last night, I was just too bushed so I'm putting on one of the poems I read.
July 23--Barbara Malcolm, Expensive Pie
April evening chill filled the house where
furnace heat was meant to be.
A tap on the thermostat brought
sound but no fury. Without a pilot light
nothing to be done but call Mr. Fix-it.
He came, his "after hours" clock
ticking, wiping his interrupted dinner
on his sleeve. Explaining I had a meeting,
I urged him to hurry--and went upstairs.
Called back almost immediately
my hope soared, only to be squashed
by a lecture on frequent filter changing.
"Is that the problem?" "No." "Then keep working."
Too soon he trudged upstairs
sorry that no broken doodad or
fizzled thingamajig was found.
"I have to check the pipes."
Before his heels disappeared
outside, his voice floated back,
"Come out here. You're not gonna believe this."
When I heard his words, I knew.
A humongous bright green leaf
of the rhubarb plant transplanted from
my Indiana grandmother's garden
had grown tall and suffocated the furnace.
Would you like a piece
of $165 rhubarb pie?
Before I go to make the soup, here are some daisies to brighten your day.
--Barbara
2 comments:
Knew you were having the busy weekend so I didn't worry too much about your absence. As usual, great pictures but my favorite is your poem. So glad you shared one! Cute story.
OK I decided to write a poem after the Spectrum (TV, Cable, Phone) guy comes for the umpteenth time tomorrow !
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