The weather is still gorgeous! I can go outside in a tank top and capris and be perfectly comfortable - if it weren't for the mighty gusts of wind whipping around. Too wet to do yard work, although I strongly suspect I need to start doing something in our backyard, to prepare our landscaping to survive winter. There is not enough time in the day to read all about how to garden properly. Hence, I will call my mother (previously mentioned as my go-to garden expert).
However, I will say that I have unwittingly created a butterfly haven. Moth haven mostly, but there are also some beautiful butterflies at times. I captured one this morning. If science were this interesting in high school, maybe I would have been more interested in it.
Update on the mums I repotted last week: they are thriving and growing. Although they are still sitting in the exact spots I left them after repotting.
I am drinking Starbucks Breakfast Blend, kindly purchased by my sweet husband last night in an effort to derail a melancholy couple of hours. It worked. It continues to work this morning, as I savor every single cup I drink. I take a sip. I think the package calls it "bright." They are correct.
Our grocery budget for the month is pretty much gone, so for breakfast I had a delicious frosted pumpkin bar we thawed out of the freezer, and a cherry Starburst. So you see why I'm really extolling the deliciousness of the coffee.
I have a lot to do today. Dishes to wash, carpet to vacuum, laundry to do (a load is in the washer - I'll count it as one small triumph), sheets to change... Yet here I sit, happily losing myself in rediscovering Henry David Thoreau's "Walden, or Life in the Woods."
Do you know how many great one-liners and potential speech-quotes Thoreau has written in this book?! Countless!
"There are many fine things which we cannot say if we have to shout."
"I had three chairs in my house; one for solitude, two for friendship, three for society."
"Be it life or death, we crave only reality. If we are really dying, let us hear the rattle in our throats and feel the cold in our extremities; if we are alive, let us go about our business."
"Our life is frittered away by detail... simplicity simplicity, simplicity!"
It is humorous and dry, as well as being full of wisdom and history and inspiration and even poetry. You can't call it prose when it's so lyrical, you just can't. I mean, take the following passage, one of my favorites:
"Life emits a fragrance like flowers and sweet-scented herbs, is more elastic, more starry, more immortal,-- that is your success. All nature is your congratulation."
And now I suppose I'll go about the very prosaic tasks of my day.Tell me that's not poetry.
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