Silver You Say

"You just keep telling yourself that," said my mother-in-law with a grin.
Perhaps she didn't quite believe that I don't mind the silver in my hair, not one bit.
There's so much silver, it seems, that the other day when I jokingly chided someone about a "blond" quip he made, he said "You're not blond!"
I'm not?
Hm; maybe not anymore. Been blond long enough anyway — white-haired child, ash-blond adult — boring already.
There's a shock of silver at the front that my hairdresser says women pay to have put into their hair; my sister Joan couldn't believe I hadn't dyed it. It blends in so well with my natural colour (former natural colour?) that I see hardly any difference when looking into the mirror.
But I bet when a certain light shines on it, that silver positively glitters throughout.

After a couple Father's Day drinks with Dad

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Lorna has left a new comment on your post "The Coos": 

I love cooing things: babies. That's the only one I ever hear these days, but I've had my share...in the day

Me too. Glad I no longer have to take care of a cooing thing in diapers, mind you! But sure enjoy holding a contented one.

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Ralph Goff has left a new comment on your post "Not an Earworm": 

I do that all the time, some tune gets into my head for reasons unknown to me and no significance to what I am doing at the time either. Just more complexities of the human mind I guess. 

Exactly. We're full of surprises.

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Wisewebwoman has left a new comment on your post "Not an Earworm": 

Funny how these songs strike out of ghetto blue and then don't leave even with a good last of the Fifth or so mm at. 

Love photo. 

XO

WWW 

Should you happen to know what that wildflower is really called, please tell me!