Looking back to years in which the foul weather didn’t eat my flowers and the weeks were sunny. It’s nice to have a working furnace, again, since it seems we are to have more cold, wet weather.
I had written a poem inspired by the weekly prompt, but decided that I should submit it for publication to a journal or two, instead of publishing it. And so I must come up with another, if I can settle on another bit of imagery. Al has suggested resurrecting my childhood. Oh my gosh . . . I can see how that can be done. Maybe not my childhood, but various time spans.
In the meantime, we went to the butcher shop. I have now cooked, for the coming week, three and a half pounds of chicken breast, which reside in freezer bags, waiting to be called up, again. I thawed and cooked liver and onions for breakfast, and half of that is also waiting for another meal. And a bone-in, precooked ham, which has been reheated, deboned, and carved into easy-to-slice portions for sandwiches.
The happiest outcomes are the seven little jars of fresh yogurt tucked into the refrigerator an hour ago and all the cups, plates, cooking utensils and flatware cleaned and put away. Except for my Toddy coffee cup, which is still half full.
Al has a dentist appointment in the morning, and so I will be up early again today. (Tuesday, I woke up at 7:30 a.m., but I’d gotten to sleep before Midnight.) I don’t think we have any events on Thursday. I believe I would like to sleep in on Thursday.
It will be strange, not having flowers, this summer. Assuming that we are able to make arrangements to have everything dug up and more dirt hauled in for landscaping. When/if I once more have flowers growing in the yard, I will think about making cards and wall art, again. Never, though, on a grand scale. Which reminds me that I must find out how to use my iPhone as a hotspot.
Too many things to do, too much to think about.