As The Wheel Turns

Yesterday was full of low grey clouds that drizzled on and off all day, and it was down-right cool.  Same again today, with a predicted high of only 78 F/25.5 C.  The Wheel of the Year is finally rolling this long, hot summer into the past.  Mabon (the Autumnal Equinox, and my mom’s 94th birthday) is tomorrow.  My mom promised me steak at Outback for my birthday (four months ago) this year, but I spent that birthday in the hospital having pneumonia.  Tomorrow, dear friends are taking both of us to lunch at Outback for steaks for her birthday.  They’re buying hers and she’s buying mine.  Works for me.

Because I went to bed at 9 o’clock last night, knackered from having spent all morning at the VA  then wandering all over Wal-Mart buying groceries, etc., getting dampened, frizzled and chilled every time I went outside, and being ganged up on by the  flu shot in my left arm and the pneumonia shot in my right arm, I bobbed to the surface about 5 o’clock this morning and knew I was done sleeping for the time being.

I’m starting my third year of living in this duplex, and I’ve noticed there’s something bird-ally attractive about the part of the roof where the vent for the range hood comes out.  Even in deepest, hottest summer, if I’m puttering in the kitchen early in the morning, I’m liable to be inadvertently eavesdropping on a mourning dove having a quiet little boohoo by the vent pipe . . .

Cue the Prince reference. . .

Author: WOL

My burrow, "La Maison du Hibou Sous Terre" is located on the flatlands of West Texas where I live with my computer, my books, and a lot of yarn waiting to become something.

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