Saturday, April 17, 2010
My neighbors have a strange little shrub on their front lawn. It boasts a sunken middle--rather like a green leafy pudding-filled breakfast roll. Like a fearless investigator, I sneaked over there with my camera early one morning when my riders were late for the commute.
Ah. Poor meter reader guy. I'll bet he remembers that one.
It causes him no end of trouble--
That bush which resembles a bubble.
Each month when the reader
Examines the meter
He thinks about making shrub stubble
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Turtle just created a spoonerism that made us both laugh. He said:
Well, it's 200 miles away...as the fly crows.
I tried to locate a picture of a crowing fly, but this was the closest I could find.
He does look like he is trying to
say something, but not wake the world in the
I think I know the subconscious reason for the slip though: Turtle has a new hobby; he ties flies. Flies, yes. Like fly-fishermen use at the ends of those long whips they call fishing lines.
Anyway, he wrestles with string, scissors, wires, fluff balls, and silk to create little poofs of fuzzy stuff that resemble an insect or a baby mouse and hide mean hooks. He has to use tying tools for making tiny knots and magnifying glasses to see them. He calls it relaxing. Go figure that one!
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
A moisty, overcast morning is perfect for listening to bird orchestras. Today I heard a woodpecker playing percussion, robins twittering in soprano, and--from the high swaying vestibule of newly-leafed branches--the hollow-piped baritone of cooing doves.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Not totally colorblind, mind you, so that his world is black, white and all gray in- between, but a faded sort of colorblind that can't tell the difference between red, orange, and yellow; that only sees the blue in aqua and purple (making them the same color); and that cannot tell the difference between green and brown.
I feel sorry for anyone who can't see green. Especially at this time of year, when glorious green sings mightily under the pale blue sky.
I sigh contentedly out the car window,
"It's so beautiful out there."
He says: "What? Oh. It must be green again."
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Starting with Easter morning and seeing the glorious sunrise as I walked up the hill to church, and ending with a joyful phone call from my daughter announcing that she has found a church to attend that she likes and is comfortable with, my week has been too full for writing. The next month promises to be more of the same, so I'll have to take each moment as it comes.
After a great Easter service last week, we journeyed to the home of our son's fiancee's family. They live a few miles from the city, on a beautiful couple of acres where birds swarm to the feeder, and the volleyball court fills a corner of the back yard. Our older daughter, her husband, their two children, our second daughter, and our son were there...as well as a family reunion about the size of our congregation on a good Sunday. There were so many people to meet and absorb names for, that I gave up. Hopefully, we'll renew acquaintances at the wedding. Anyway, it was a great time for relaxed visiting, and I give Beverly and Brian thanks for hosting it.
Monday, Claye and I headed to a little town about sixty miles from here to investigate the art scene and beg for a job. Believe it or not, we came home with a job and an apartment only three blocks away. All week, Turtle and I have been taking loads of stuff down and finding room for it in the tiny apartment, getting electricity and water on etc. etc. etc.
At school, I'm preparing for four things--concurrently: We have an accreditation visit for the next three days, so, of course we wanted everything spick, span, and ready; I'm working with my seventh and eighth grade Bible classes on a two hour program/performance for the 26th of April; I'm hosting a junior high level academic tournament on the 21st; and I'm preparing for the senior graduation. Life is tooooo full right now.
Ah well. It isn't too full for pictures so here are a few that I took this week.