Tuesday dawns a comfortable but humid and dewy 73°. Just right for morning stoop sitting with the mutts. Mr.Cottontail has become a fixture out in the field, and is still watched closely by the mutts, but they no longer howl and bark at him.
This year sort of makes up for the five-year drought. The fields are green, the bermudagrass is thriving, and nature slowly heals the land she struck. It is all a part of a grand plan of a universal audience participation play, I muse. OK … low grade Zen and I move on.
A quick run through the newsfeeds. Politics are all atwitter at Walker’s announcement that he is running for President. The care more than thee, feel more than thee coalition is still trying to get me to check my white privilege. One tired old politician defends Sanctuary Cities. A beach back east blows up and no one knows why. The military is preparing to accept trans-gendered GI’s. And the Boy Scouts prepare to accept gay leaders.
Blogs of photos abound, and politics, of course.
Nothing in the mailbox ‘cept the internet bill.
The mutt have successfully roused Snooks and are enjoying breakfast. Kippur da budgie is molting again and is pretty cranky about it, and she chitters and scolds Linda when she comes in to replenish her food and water.
Time to put new blades in the mower. Not looking forward to that one. And I still need to get the awning up over the porch. And a minor amount of weed eating is needed. Both Snooks and I are stalling to see who will grab up the weed eater and finish the trimming.
So unfolds the day out here in the semi-wilds of the Texas prairie.