Sunrise, Sunset...

 



Okay, all I've got is the sunset but, oh, it's very pretty, all orange and pink in the western sky.

I glanced out the window here to see the neighbor's crabapple tree all red-violet with flowers and knew by the quality of the light that it'd be a pretty sunset.


I didn't do much today--read the paper, took a shower, went to Walmart--so I don't have a raft of flower photos or a long involved description of everything I did.  I washed a sink full of dishes and did a load of laundry, neither of those are anywhere close to being photo worthy.



This acrobatic bluejay swooped in for a drink and a twirl on the peanut wreath but so far we haven't seen any orioles or hummingbirds.  Someone reminded me today not to put food coloring in the birdie juice.  I know it's bad for the birds, or at least not good for them, but I forgot and put some in the last batch.  I'll try to do better tomorrow.

After supper I sat on the couch with my "writing" nature sounds playing in my ears and worked to figure out what the next chapter of my novel should be since I'm meeting my writing friend, ACJ, tomorrow after lunch and don't want to squander the time.  Once I got myself all organized I realized that I'd resumed my broken ankle position, pillow and all, but the combination of the music and nature sounds in my ears and the pillow and notepad on my lap produced a first page and some ideas for what comes next.  I tell you, that $3 cd I got a century ago on one of those discount store displays is like writing-inspiration magic.  I plug the earbuds in and words come out.  Magic.


Before coming in here I cast on the second charity dishcloth and got about 10 rows knitted.  It's a simple pattern and one that I wish I had started at the meeting last Thursday.  I might have actually gotten one done if I had.  Probably not, since I'm a pretty slow knitter, but maybe.

May 20--Edouard Manet, Boy in Flowers.  At first Janet thought it was just a row of floral bouquets in the market stall but then one of the bouquets blinked.  His eyes were the blue of cornflowers and his straw hat matched the petals of the sunflowers behind him.  She smiled at him and slowed her pace, getting buffeted by people in a hurry.  She didn't need a bouquet, didn't really have a place for one or a vase for one, but the boy's appearance like a living bouquet made her want what he was selling.

Man, here it is 11 o'clock again.  I need to invest in some time management training.  Either that or just pay attention to the clock.

I learned once again that I am a smoke magnet.  Yesterday I picked up a couple pounds of ground beef patties that I told Durwood I'd grill for his lunches so I lit the charcoal before I took my shower and then slapped them on the grill.  Because they're so thin I stayed outside so they wouldn't overcook.  When I sat on one side of the patio the wind blew the smoke right on me so I moved to the opposite side whereupon the wind shifted and blew the smoke that way.  When they were done I took the top off the grill and in the process of taking off eight patties I walked all the way around it with the smoke in my face all the way.  Needless to say I smelled great, like a grilled hamburger, when I went to the grocery.  I can't explain it but smoke loves me or the wind does.  The outcome is the same.
--Barbara