Mommy stories be-bopped her best, but no, we've heard that one before, and from better singers.
So. Vanity it is. Here we go.
I'm posting from a new body, one that has dropped another five pounds. That brings the total to twenty-five pounds lost. The size fours are starting to get baggy, like the sixes had been a couple of months ago.
I've got nothing that fits. Well, ok the shorts I just bought fit.
Shorts. Yeah. They fall to mid-calf on me. My new capris.
But I'm not down to my college clothes yet. Probably won't be ever again. But one needs goals.
Jeebus, this is not at all what I want to write.
What DO I want to write?
I want to write about weeds.
Flowers the color of the sun, with a sweet, delicate perfume. They are one of the first to appear in spring, and one of the last to disappear in the fall. Useful plants; their leaves can be eaten or -- wonder of wonders -- dandelions can be turned into wine!
Hardy plants, dandelions can grow almost anywhere, under all kinds of conditions.
They thrived in the
Dandelion plants are the only green things in my lawn right now.
A bumper crop this year. They scamper across the road at twilight. Sometimes they make it. In our yard, we've rescued two young ones. Rescue is not the correct term for the first. We postponed its demise.
I have an agreement with the rabbits. They stay out of my garden, I let their young live. My romaine is untouched. They feast on dandelions instead.
They roam every neighborhood, tormenting dogs, digging up plants, catching birds. Every cat we've had's been a stray. The first was Poe, a black Siamese. The Cat. He kept us awake at night with his voice. I fed him out of a
I broke his heart and he died.
The current stray is a Maine Coon mix. She's big and lovely, friendly. A born hunter, she catches rabbits when we aren't looking. I can't make an agreement with this cat.