Bird-Day

This morning my assistant sadly commented that there weren't any birds at the feeders so we bundled up (it was about 40 degrees out there) and went out to rectify the situation as best we could.  We put cobs of corn in the squirrel feeders (which the chipmunks have taken over), peanuts in the peanut wreath, and cracked corn and sunflower seeds in the tube feeder.  That helped.  Soon there was this Downy Woodpecker on the suet that I filled a couple days ago and then this Bluejay and his (or her) buddy came squawking in to nab peanut after peanut.  My assistant wasn't feeling great so we spent a lot of our day either on the couch reading books or sitting looking out to see what the birds and squirrels were doing.  I gotta say, a day's worth of snuggling that boy is a real cure for what ails a Meemaw, even if the boy isn't feeling well.

This evening at Friday Night Knitting instead of just knitting around and around on my Woodland Plain-Old-Sock I decided to cast on and knit the beginning of the first Appleseed Mitt.  May I say that sitting chatting isn't the best environment for accuracy in beginning a project.  See how much I have?  I'll end up frogging back at least one row and maybe end up starting the whole shebang over since I think one size smaller needle might be the way to go.  This ribbing looks too loosey-goosey for my taste.  I'll cogitate on it.


After knitting I came home and did a little judicious repacking.  As cold as it's turned out to be I don't think that my newest and thinnest Dresses no. 2 need to come along and I had taken way too many pairs of leggings.  Now all that needs to get into the suitcase is undies.  I'll get to those tomorrow morning.  Really, I will.  I put the basket of clean laundry where I'll trip over it if I go to close my suitcase without adding undies.  I wasn't born yesterday.  Really.

Ocotber 12--Henri-Edmond Cross, Canale Ponte Lungo (Long Bridge Canal).  The water sparkled under the pale spring sun.  It patted the stones of the bridge making little popping sounds as boats passed by.  Cecilia threaded her fingers around the iron railing as she leaned there to watch the tourists gawk.  She thought they looked so silly in their loud prints and socks with sandals.  If she ever went to America she wouldn't dress like that, not even if everyone else did.

And that, my dears, is that.  I am off to a writing workshop for a week so there won't be any blogging because there's no internet there.  Oh, I could drive into town and sit shivering in my car outside a restaurant with wi-fi but I won't.  Know that I'll be thinking about you and will come back refreshed with gorgeous pictures to show you.
--Barbara