Perfect Timing

 
I haz it.  Today's weather was lovely, so lovely that I brought up a package of frozen drumsticks that I planned to cook on the grill.  I got busy with organizing (more like deciphering) my notes from the weekend, reading over and editing the handouts for my little lesson on using Ravelry (a website for knitters and other fiber fans) for a couple of knitters tomorrow.  I filled the birdfeeders.  I even left the patio door open so that real, fresh air came in to sweep out the winter-stale air.  Ahhh.  So I was distracted and didn't start heating the charcoal until about 6 o'clock--when dark clouds massed in the west and as I touched flame to the coals it started to rain.  Of course it did.  Not deterred, I wheeled the Weber as close to the patio door as I could without lighting the screen on fire and hoped for the best.  It rained for about half an hour and then the line of storms moved off, my charcoal heated up, I moved the grill back away from the house, and put the drumsticks on.  I set the timer for an hour and, ta-da!, had grilled meat for supper.  It was soooo good.




This morning I saw that the Juncos are still here.  When I don't see them for a day or two I think that they've migrated back to their summer home in the Arctic, but then I fill the feeders, some spills, and there they are pecking away like this is home.  And the weather guys are predicting that Snowstorm Fiona will arrive as rain late on Wednesday, turn into sleet and freezing rain by Thursday morning commute time, and turn to snow later in the day.  Yippee.  Fingers crossed that they're wrong.  We don't need no freezing rain.  I have an appointment with my trainer on Thursday that I don't want to have to cancel.  Grr.



When I went out to check on the drumsticks I saw that the storm line was just about past and the setting sun was tinting the clouds pink.  I was much happier to see the back of the clouds than I was to see the front of them.  Look how green the grass has gotten over the last few days.  Amazing what a little spring rain will do.


The other day I got an email from RS, a guy I went to grade and high school with, asking if I'd help him identify people in a class photo so I dug out my yearbook (it was in the first place I checked, okay, the second one), paged through the senior pages and didn't find a group photo.  So I rechecked his email.  Turns out he needs help to ID the people in the group photo from the 20 year reunion which by some miracle was tucked into my yearbook.  It's the only reunion I've ever gone to.  Isn't that lucky?  I've figured out a few people, I'll keep working on it.


8 April--William Rickarby Miller, On the Rondout Canal, Rosendale.

Stuck in its own reflection
the canal boat sulked
in the midday sun,
fishing boys
concentrated on hooking
supper.
~~~~~ 

Hey, today my baby brothers are 63 years old.  I called each of them to sing them Happy Birthday and chat for a while.  Sixty-three years old, seems too many, but then I'm sixty-seven which some days seems like Methuselah-class years.  But not today.
--Barbara