My cat sits outside my door, glaring. I will not let him innocently slip down the back of my chair and be wedged behind back and shoulders when I lean forward to type.
Another day with nowhere to go and little to do. An ENOUGH participant and I worked out the final details of the poster I will hang around town. Tomorrow, after the gym, I will go around and talk nice and see how many I can have posted. I say “old hippie” about all of us, but I think that only applies to me.
They all are twenty odd years younger, which puts them in the range of my daughters, but I don’t know what the new activists are calling themselves. These women who have marched for the last year, plus. Though the potter does have a “hippie jacket” she wanted me to take.
I am looking forward to “talking nice.”
Monday, before any of this began, I think, was a day of blazing sunshine. This bush at the Methodist church basked in it.
In the mornings while breakfast is preparing, I look out the kitchen window at the weather. My solitary indoor plant is this little orchid from Caroline, years ago, on the way to Pennsylvania to see my great grandfather’s grave and the GAR star planted by it.
The little orchid in the kitchen window is tolerant of me beyond explanation. The first time it outgrew a pot and I transplanted it, I put it in dirt. It thrived anyway. A couple of years later I read not to do that, and got not dirt from the nursery. Plus, advice to submerse pot and all into a sink full of water weekly. I still use the kitchen faucet.
The rain woke me first today, then the phone chime that said I had a calendar obligation. We used to get up to turn off the alarm, now to see what’s on the phone. I’d left a note to charge the camera, there is a concert tonight. Laura dropped band next year, in favor of art and creative writing, so just the spring concert and we are done. I will leave my hearing aids at home.
Signing off from several inches of rain. Everyone on this street has green grass, and I have a garden stream.