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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