- I made basmati rice today. I love the way it smells as it’s cooking.
- The first dandelion bloomed today, and I held it up to my nose. I never realized before that dandelions have their own smell. It’s just not as strong as the scent of certain other flowers.
- The weather is finally warm enough to go outside without a jacket, but the ground is still pleasantly chilly against bare feet.
- Wild turkeys walked past our house this afternoon.
- The daffodils and hyacinths are coming into bloom.
- There is a bird nesting on the downspout near the corner of the house. Every time I walk past, he freaks out and zooms into the woods.
TASTE: I ate part of a navel orange this morning. It was delicious and sweet. Did you know that the cluster near the navel is actually a second orange? Food for thought.
- The peepers are peeping like mad, singing their spring song.
- Yesterday someone mentioned A-ha’s “Take on Me.” It got thoroughly stuck in my head, so I listened to it on my streaming service today. It’s still a great song, one of the best from that era.
My office is a mess, so I’ve been trying to clean it up. Today I piled together a bunch of papers that need to be filed. Then I slapped a sticky note on top and wrote, “Put me away!” But, now that I think about it, that probably wasn’t the best wording choice. I guess I’d better hurry up and file the papers before anyone sees the note and takes it the wrong way! ðŸ˜‰
It snowed on Friday and, because I had promised myself that I would walk if it snowed, I went for a hike in the woods. The snow wasn’t sticking much, and the trails were muddy rather than snow-covered, but it was a nice walk. I don’t think Mr. Spider was so happy with the weather, though.
Snow was the only thing my spidery friend caught in his web that day.
As a child, I was never able to solve the Rubik’s Cube. Today I solved the smaller version with four squares per side. I was so pleased with myself that I shouted a celebratory “Woohoo!” and startled the children.
Truth is, I’ve always been slightly ashamed that I not only couldn’t solve the Rubik’s Cube but also didn’t care enough to learn how to. Solving the little one makes me feel a little less losery. And, since I had told my husband that I was certain I could solve it, and since he had expressed some, shall we say, skepticism, solving it was a sweet victory indeed!
Last Saturday I took the kids to an Easter egg hunt. It was a sunny day, the kids found a lot of eggs, and Livia got to play with her best friends from school. We had a good time.
But April is the start of tick season and since we had all walked through grass during the hunt, I decided to wash our clothing when we got home. Big mistake. When I opened up the washing machine, everything I had washed in that light-colored load was tinged with purple. Purple! How could this happen?
Well, at the Easter to-do, the kids ate some cookies, and I grabbed a napkin with which to wipe the crumbs off their faces. There wasn’t a trash can handy, so afterward I shoved that vividly purple napkin into the pocket of my brand-new jacket. I’m usually good about checking pockets before I throw things into the wash, but I somehow forgot to check that particular one. Oops.
I think it’s fair to say that clothing ought to be truly purple or not purple at all, never merely purplish. A touch of purple just makes things look dingy. My brand-new jacket and shirt, plus several other assorted garments, are now an ugly, not-quite-purple color. Chlorine bleach doesn’t work well here (thanks to the metal content of our well water), and the non-chlorine bleach that I tried was ineffective. The clothes will never look quite right again.
Who would have thought that one forgotten 5×5 square of disposable paper could be so destructive?
It’s amazing how often I am reminded to work on my novel. Trees are everywhere, not just outside, but inside. I find them in art and literature, even in architecture. At Livia’s art show there were some paintings of trees, and the enormous room made me think of the arboretum in my story. Helen Keller mentioned trees several times in her autobiography, and at times she hit a tone similar to what I hope to set in certain scenes from my novel. Inspiration abounds.
When the crocuses got buried under the snow of several successive storms, I thought they were goners. They weren’t. I almost think the snow did them some good. They’re blooming like mad now.
As I was taking these pictures, my husband said, “I know it’s spring when my honey is outside with her pant legs rolled up.” So true. Once it gets warm enough, I start going outside barefoot to take pictures. I roll up my pants so that I won’t accidentally sweep up any ticks. Pics are good and ticks are not.
Now that it’s spring, I will be outside much more often. And yes, I will have my pants rolled high, looking silly no doubt. Spring will do that to a person. ðŸ˜‰
My fortune from last night’s fortune cookie:
Music is the divine way to tell beautiful, poetic things to the heart.
At 7:50, the time to which the alarm on my clock-radio is set, the local radio station is in the middle of announcing the obituaries. Death is not the subject I want to wake up to. It’s also not something I’d want to listen to while drinking my morning coffee, or during a morning commute, so I do not understand why the radio people have it scheduled so early. Death can wait at least until lunch, don’t you think?
Anyway, I’m going to have to change the settings on my clock-radio!