#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Hydrangea & Chagall

It’s a bit of a slow and creaky wake-up. Body tired. It’s overcast. A perfect day to take it slow and rest. And write. I work on the new poem and I think I’m getting somewhere. Late in the day, I don’t think I have, despite the work of the day. I have also cleared brush as my exercise. And rain came and I felt rinsed and refreshed. No sun coming out today, and that was relief. I napped and returned to the poem. Where I ended up I am not delighted tonight and happy to sleep on it. I have a poem ready for tomorrow anyway. The hole in the dining room wall is happily patched, happily painted, happily fixed by Frank and there is no telling, from the wall, that there was an injury at all. The glass, however, is still waiting for the glassworker for repair. We had the most wonderful family dinner. No Wave, but everyone else of us, and Frank made such a delicious dinner of swordfish and shrimp and steak and corn and asparagus, a summer feast. All three kids and my daughter’s boyfriend around the table. And after an easy cleanup, we played a game in the living room. Females against males. We females won. I can’t remember the name of the game but it was kind of charades, kind of a memory game, very fun and lots of laughs. A consolation. No Wave, but grown up fun. Deer, a mother, at the far end of the yard in front of the river. I walked at dusk across to see her. She dashed with her white tail away from me after watching me for awhile. Everything is humid and damp and rained on. Is she the one eating my hydrangea bush in the circular garden? Windows open tonight.