Many times during any given day I find myself composing a great blog post, all in my mind. While doing a puzzle I'm rehearsing a monologue on my inability to keep up with the housework, all in my mind. While baking bread I'm writing an essay on the sad state of grocery shopping today, all in my mind. While helping with piano practice, or researching Egypt, or painting a mummy, I'm waxing poetic about the many joys of homeschooling, and possibly its faults as well, but still all in my mind. Little of this writing ever seems to make it onto the blog these days, and when it does it's usually in a paragraph or two of watered down, hastily jotted recaps of the day. I need a stenographer and a secretary, Mad Men style, like in season one.
For instance, today it warmed up a bit and turned pretty and sunny, so I embarked on my first long run of the year. It didn't go all that well (the first one never does) but while running and listening to Gone With the Wind I was thinking all sorts of things I wanted to say about the resilience of our small town in the wake of the tornado (the outpouring of support has been tremendous), or about the state of the flora around here after the strange weather (the leaves on our tree are a deep fall-brown in early spring). Now for the life of me I can't remember what exactly I wanted to say on either of those topics that was worthy of being more than parenthetical.
After lunch and some relaxed reading time this afternoon we got back into the garden, pulling weeds, trimming bushes, trenching and edging, discovering worms, feeding the birds. The cowbirds are back. The finches are bright yellow again. The robin is settled into her nest under our deck. We haven't seen the hummingbirds yet, but we've got their food out, and I'm sure they'll come. We're also hoping to see the oriole again this year.
This same time last year we had only buds, no leaves yet. I'm kind of digging the bright green against the deep reddish brown, but it's definitely unusual.
