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Sunday, August 31, 2014

Rainy Sunday afternoon

I stood on the front porch this morning, admiring the rain, and a squabble broke out at the end of the house. I came in for my camera and on the way back, I snapped off Toby, in one of his "leans." I caught him off guard, he despises being photogenic.




Back to the porch, where two house finches sheltered from the rain. The initial squabble had been a third bird, trying for a bit of gutter out of the rain. Unsuccessfully.



Back in the house, Toby won't acknowledge me, perhaps thinking "Get a life."
He is a feral foundling, and unlike any cat I've had, even barn cats turned house cat.


It was raining just as hard out back, and far more interestingly.


Shiny.


Shiny with splatters.


Done.


Drops.


More drops.


Only the rain is out to dry, today.


No little girls visited my new glider this summer. One thing and another.


Toby is interested in what happens in the house, and out, and he stays on his side of the raindrops.


Rainy Sunday afternoon.


Friday, August 29, 2014

Up the hill and back again

I set out to take these pictures a week ago, and did take them last Friday.
But I've spent the week with the other pictures I took that day, too.
At last, the Garden Club ladies refurbished bridge and all their flower boxes.
Up the hill, east, and down the hill west.
This first box has flowers through and through.
Here's the side,


Here's the front.
And off we go.




A look over at the Towpath Trail, and the loads of stone where the path is undercut.


Back to flowers, the last box on this side of the bridge.


Still going west, at the top of the hill,
The guardrail between the sidewalk and the river gorge.
Last year the Garden Club ladies stashed their water jugs on the back side of the rail.
I didn't go rummaging back there. Spiders.


There is an apartment down there, under the old bank building, young couple, I think.
They certainly have outdone themselves with privacy foliage.



Ok, on the downhill side, going east.


Another through and through.


Its front.



Another through and through.


It's front.
I don't care much for either Dusty Pete or Coleus, 
but I like the tall grass.


Through and through.


The front.


Through the bridge.


The very green front. A minute pinkish bloom in there.


Love the red flower, and this long white flower.
If someone tells me their names,
they will go right on my list for the former lettuce tower, next summer.



Have a good and safe holiday weekend.
If you live in Canada, or Britain, or France, or Germany,
go ahead, take Monday off, too.
I'll send you a note to turn in Tuesday.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Happy Birthday

My dad was born August 28, 1907,
in a hardscrabble coal mining town,
Coalmont, Pennsylvania.


All my life he worked at Goodyear Aircraft,
later Goodyear Aerospace,
and once demanded of the president of Goodyear 
to be liberated from his job of supervising engineers
who designed blimps
and let him go fight "this damn war!"


Today would have been dad's 107th birthday.
The Goodyear flag once flew over Goodyear's Belgian facility.
Dad couldn't liberate Belgium in person,
But he did his part.
Happy Birthday.


I enjoy hanging the laundry out to dry;
it's an hour of quiet contemplation.


Last Sunday I looked up and saw this contrail 
with little encircling spiral smoke rings.
I stared so long it dissipated a bit.
I wonder if Gandalf was on the plane.
Any guesses?