Bingo!

Another wait on the chilly porch yesterday morning and this time, I got the equinoctial sunrise I'd been hoping for. 

Clear sky, mostly . . .

And here comes the Sun!

 

Hidden Figures

                                                                            

I was experimenting with watercolors--especially with adding texture by dropping salt or drops of alcohol onto the wet paint, when these critters emerged.                                                                                    

Kinda like cloud-gazing . . . or perhaps a Rorscach test.

                                                                               

The Great Wheel Turns

For the past two mornings, I've sat on the porch waiting for the sun to show itself in the center of the horizon.

There's a nice glow in the expected spot.

A promising beginning--but before the sun actually peeked over the Blue Ridge--down came the clouds.

 

Daffodil Dizzy

 

Beeing There

 

The beautiful weather lured me out to do a little preliminary cleanup--cutting back dead stalks and stems of lemon balm, sedum, daylilies, and iris. Unfortunately, I can't do this for very long before my back begins to complain. So, I took a seat on a low rock wall and enjoyed the blaze of pinky-coral of the flowering quince. 

Soon I noticed that honeybees were at work. (Hoorah!) I tried to capture them, but, as I didn't have a tripod, the results are 

not very good. 

But still--bees! Such a welcome sight.

Then there was the matter of getting up from that low stone wall . . .

I don't mind being old--the number doesn't scare me. But I really dislike the physical limitations. 

Though I had to laugh at myself and my contortions--trying to stand without risking pitching over onto the stone path and landing on my pathetic knee.

It took about five minutes, but I managed.

Small victories.

 

Pink and White

 

A Busy Person

                                                                                

                                                                                 

This is a family of Castle People. Carmen is the mama, Big Red is the daddy, Hildegarde is the grandma. There is a big brother and a big sister and a little sister and Pup. I made them blankets out of play dough and beds from oyster shells.

                          Putting on a puppet show for Margo.

                                                                                           

The princess is reading to Margo.

I worked in a workbook and did a jigsaw puzzle and Meema and I played Go Fish and Crazy 8 and Memory. I mostly won. I am really good at Memory. Plus, sometimes I can see through Meema's GoFish cards and that helps me win too.

Re-Watching--a Mini Steve Martinfest

                                                                                

As well as re-reading favorite books, I like to re-watch certain films--all of Monty Python (Life of Brian, The Holy Grail, The Meaning of Life,) most of the Coen Brothers, especially Raising Arizona, Fargo, and O Brother, Where Art Thou.

When Justin was home sick for much of second grade, The Empire Strikes Back and The Everlasting Story were on constant replay. The Pirates of Penzance, was another popular favorite.

Recently I developed a longing to see two Steve Martin movies that I remembered fondly--and, lo and behold, my wish was granted.

L.A. Story is great fun, especially with Sara Jessica Parker's great energetic turn as SaNDee* who loves to twirl.  And Patrick Stewart, in a brief appearance as the supercilious maitre d' of L'Idiot ("You think you can 'ave ze duck? With a portfolio like zat? You can have ze chicken") is memorable.

Even better is Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. Martin is at his comic best, Michael Caine is wonderful, and the plot, involving the two as con men in competition is hilarious. 

Two evening of laugh out loud pleasure. . . better than a trip to a spa.

What do you watch for light entertainment?

                                                

A Magical Time

                                                                                     

The star magnolia, forsythia, and flowering quince know it.

                                                             

  The tender green of the weeping willow flutters in the breeze.

                                                            

The weeping cherry is awash in palest pink.

And in their rocky nook, the hellebores reach for the sun.

And all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all shall be exceeding well.  Julian of Norwich.

Of course, it could still come a freeze--but nothing can take the beauty of this day from me.

                                                         

Dent de Lion (repost)

  

Is it a weed or a wildflower? Dandelions are showing their cheerful sunny faces all over our farm just now.

Its jagged edged leaves, which account for the name “Tooth of the Lion,” pop up in gardens and lawns everywhere. Perfectionists deplore the dandelion but herbalists  value its diuretic powers. (An old name for dandelion was ‘Piss-a-beds.') 

In earlier times, the young leaves were a welcome Spring addition to the diet as a salad (or 'sallet' in the old time speech)or briefly sautéed with bacon and seasoned with a little vinegar.

And, of course, there's dandelion wine. It sounded so magical-- all summer in a bottle--in the Ray Bradbury tale of the same name but was truly foul in my one (failed) attempt at making it years ago.

Have any of you ever tasted -- or made dandelion wine?

 

Gateway to Spring

                                                                           

Table Garden

                                                                                   

                                                                                  

                                                                              

Why Are These Two Laughing?

                                                                     

I've probably told this story before, but yesterday, as I was sorting through boxes of old photos, I came upon two that, I'm pretty sure, document said story.

                                                    

Here's a slightly earlier photo to set the scene. Breakfast at my grandparents' house. It's around 1979 and the boys and I are visiting. On the trip down, I had talked with the boys about proper Tampa behavior--no peeing outside, particularly, and certainly, n0 using naughty words, even if they had heard their parents using them. 

They seemed to understand.

All had gone well, and we were enjoying a quiet breakfast when darling little Justin looked over at me, and, out of the blue said, "We don't say sh*t."

Thankfully, my grandmother was deaf, and my grandfather was crunching cornflakes so neither heard him.

But Ethan and I did.