More Flowers

Or maybe they're the same old flowers.
Either way . . .  .

11:48am

I was sitting here, reading and writing, when Ducky Doodle begged to go outside. I threw on a sweater and jacket and went along. “Just to the end of the driveway,” I told him as he danced with excitement and joy. “It’s cold out and I don’t want to go right now.”

At the end of the driveway I decided to walk north, just to the slough where the baby ducks (buffleheads?) were on Saturday. Didn’t see them; why would they be out floating in this grey wind? They were probably snuggled into a warm nest instead. 

I walked further, noticing the wildflowers in bloom (anemone, ladyslippers, roses), then turned and came back south, past the driveway and another three-quarters of a mile to the ravine down by the correction line. The sun came and went and I pulled my hood over my ears and the clouds were so thick and fluffy that I literally called Ducky over and thanked him, out loud, for making me come out. I was glad I had.

When we returned to the yard I didn't want to come in. I hoed through the flowerbed, deadheaded the pansies, watered the one tomato plant (and ate the first ripe cherry tomato: wow! Fantastic!)(it has rained yet the leaves are droopy – not yellow-droopy, but thirsty-droopy) and rearranged some heavy planters in order to fit some smaller pots in with them.

And here is Scott just come in from town, where he was setting up a basement for Leonard P. Maybe he will get at our kitchen sink now.  

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