Last night, I came home to find a humming bird beating the bees off the bee balm, a pair of mallards and their gay uncle basking by the pond, and our frog enjoying the sun while he sat on a stone by the water’s edge.
This morning, I had fruit soda bread from Gretel’s grocery for breakfast. I toasted it and ate it with Irish butter and some of Tom’s homemade rhubarb and ginger jam. I went out to the deck on frog check (yes, same frog, different stone) and when I came back in the kitchen smelt all hot oven and curranty, just like my Auntie Irene’s.
I am invited to lunch party at one of Itchy Ankle’s best addresses. Tonight I will finish the thriller I was reading all last night in bed —The Navigator by Michael Pocalyko. Not much wrong with any of this.