Silent Sunday

Here we have another beautiful Queens Creek sunrise.

Well, it's Sunday once again. Ordinarily, I'd be approaching this day with dread and apprehension. Not that I have anything against Sundays, it's just that they precede Monday, which is the worst day of the week, followed by Tuesday and then every other day except Saturday Wednesday.

But today I welcome Sunday with open arms and a great big smile because I have tomorrow off! Now, that does not mean that I will be relaxing, no, of course not. There's grass to cut and beds to weed, but at least I won't have to drive in to work.

Hello, Sunday, come on in and make yourself comfortable. May I bring you a cold drink and a cheese plate? Here, sit down and relax. It's been a while, we have a lot of catching up to do.

Hope you enjoy your day to the fullest. I know I intend to.

Three Things

Welcome to Three Thing Thursday, where you share three things and I share three things. Any three things at all. Or any thirty-three things.

Do you think it's possible to squeeze any more "th" words into one sentence? I'm starting to sound like Sylvester the Cat.

I'll go first, but if you were here I'd let you go first.

Ready? Let's begin.

1. The daffodils are in full bloom now; they're everywhere and they're gorgeous. I was going to force encourage the Chesapeake Bay Children to pick several baskets and sell them at Saturday's Farmers Market in Mathews Court House, but on the ride home tonight Chesapeake Bay Son informed me that he has to do community service a National Junior Honor Society project that has something to do with an Easter Egg Hunt fundraiser.

So no Farmers Market for us.

2. Daffodils always make me think of my grandfather, the retired Brigadier General, who was a commercial grower in his later years. Most people called him The General. We grandchildren called him Gus, which was his first name. (Actually it was Gustave, but since that's also the name of my mother's beastly goose, let's not focus on that technicality.)

Don't you think it is odd that grandchildren would call their grandfather Gus?

3a. Gus had very, very bushy eyebrows that were so long they looked like awnings. Unfortunately, thanks to the witch's brew of hormones that attack all females as they approach the cemetery their mid to late 40s, my eyebrows seem to be growing bushier and bushier.

We won't talk about the other facial hair. Thank you.

3b. Yesterday I arrived home feeling gleeful and refreshed after the most enjoyable day at work. I did four loads of laundry, and the Chesapeake Bay Children even helped me!

Then I prepared a delightful supper which they thoroughly enjoyed. Not one single ant showed up at the dinner table, in spite of the fact that this and all other houses in the entire 23076 zip code appear to be built on top of the world's largest anthill. Afterwards, Chesapeake Bay Son and Daughter dutifully scampered off to clean their rooms. I think I even heard them whistling.

Then I won the lottery.

The End April Fools.

Now it's your turn to share three things or thirty three things about anything you want. If you can't think of anything, tell me about a memorable April Fools prank.

Click here to read my favorite April Fools experience.

Full Moon

Early Saturday evening a most unexpected visitor came knocking on my back door. It wasn't the usual northeast wind or horizontal rain or my twenty-seven starving cats. Nor was it a hungry heron, a Canada goose or a herd of savage fiddler crabs a next-door neighbor coming over to borrow a cup of flour.

It was a gorgeous, gorgeous moon.

Let your eyes wander slowly from that moon up high down to the horizon which slowly turns from pink to blue.

"The water is my tranquilizer," is my new favorite saying, but the water plus a sunset plus a full moon? That's Heaven on Earth.

The more I'm here and the lazier older I get, the more I hate leaving even to go to the next county over for whatever item might be required from civilization, although I must say that there's nothing civilized about Wal-Mutant, or Route 17.

Anyway, Mondays--which are not especially popular with most people to begin with--are particularly difficult for me. It isn't just the getting up and going to work, but it's the leaving part. Just leaving the county is drudgery. Even if I had the same hour-long commute but could stay within the confines of this county, I'd be fine with that.

Instead, the car takes me from this rural retreat to the urban jungle which becomes more and more repulsive every time I see it. Toss in the monotony and, quite frankly, the ridiculosity (it's a word) of my paying job, and you'll know why I would never want to leave here.

Once you have heard the lark, known the swish of feet through hill-top grass and smelt the earth made ready for the seed, you are never again going to be fully happy about the cities and towns that man carries like a crippling weight upon his back. ~Gwyn Thomas

To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter; to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird's nest or a wildflower in spring - these are some of the rewards of the simple life. ~John Burroughs

Take one full moon rising over the creek, add the scent of cold air mixed with salt water and a hint of a brush fire off in the distance. Sprinkle generously with the absence of sound except for the heartbeat of the universe and the calls of the occasional bird. This is the recipe for Calm. To achieve the opposite result, throw in a Monday, a commute to the city, and a day full of ridiculosity. (It really is a word.) - Chesapeake Bay Woman

May your day be filled with calm and not ridiculosity. (Seriously, it's my life a word.)