A Baby Tree

I spent most of the day weeding the top of the 110 feet of retaining wall, the part of it I can reach anyway.  One of the things I weeded out was a tiny oak tree with the acorn still attached.  I was surprised because the leaves weren't oak tree shaped yet.  It was the perfect day to be out weeding, sunny and cool with a little breeze out of the northeast (so no Burger King temptation floating by).  I think the only way I'll be able to finish the weeds will be to go to the end of the wall and walk on top of it so I can uproot the weeds nearest the fence.  Don't worry, it's at least three feet wide so I won't be tightrope walking to do it.


I filled the bird feeders yesterday and this bluejay stopped over to acrobatically nab a peanut.  It was fun to watch because the bird started by standing on top of the wreath, hopped into the center, and finally ended up hanging nearly upside down but it eventually got a peanut and flew off.  It must have decided that was too much work because it didn't come back.





Now the alliums in the back garden are blooming.  I wish you could see the flowers close up.  Each red-violet floret has a green center that's very striking.


 


Today you can really see the onions sprouting in the mulch/bale.  I'm ecstatic that so many of them are up and making green tops.  Maybe I'll actually have some to harvest that are bigger than a ping pong ball.



30 May--Barbara Malcolm, Tropical Obsession. 

            Deep under the water the treasure laid waiting. Waiting for hands to take it up, to pull it into the light and air after centuries spent on the bottom under a pile of timbers. The sea had done its best to claim the treasure for its own. Queen angelfish hovered over it, delicately nibbling on the algae-filled coral polyps that obscured the outline through the years. In a very short time, the human taint was diluted in the sea. All that remained was the cold metallic tang and the sharp sap of the planks crushed by being driven onto the reef by a long-forgotten storm. Silver blackened and welded together by the saltwater held the shape of containers long dissolved or rotted away but the gold lay as yellow and gleaming as the day it was smuggled aboard.

It was quiet down there, peaceful. Not silent, not by a long shot, but different sounds from the regular everyday ones. There was no traffic, no ringing buzzing tootling phones, no voices of any kind. It was restful to ears jangled by the escalating buzz of modern life to wade into a blood-warm sea and submerge to spend an hour neutrally buoyant, unencumbered by gravity's demanding pull. The Darth Vader whoosh-click of his breathing fades as his vision soars, strains to pull in every color, movement, and shape. It is peaceful spending time in a place where the rocks are alive, the plants are animals, and the only soldiers are six-inch-long red fish that roam the reef at night.

Glint of gold. It caught his eye as Manning swam down the reef. He stopped and finned nearer, only to find it was a broken bottle glittering in his light. The pale glow of the moon lent its cold light to the warm beam in his hand as he swept it over the reef. Looking for the clues, the markers Santiago claimed were there, made Manning's heart rate slow. He knew that even without the treasure the Venezuelan swore was there for the taking, that he had all he needed to keep Jack on the string long enough to part him from a good bit of his money. Many fools like Spencer who imagined they were smarter than Manning had come to regret it.

But the treasure was less than a hundred yards away in the sand between the first and second reefs.

I slacked off daily writing in May and can I ever tell.  The last couple days I've done a prompt exercise and both of them are horrible, terrible, no good, very bad things but I have faith that if I keep it up my brain will eventually turn back on.  I hope.
--Barbara