Sitting on my parents’ back porch. Bird song began hours ago. Fancier birds than sing at home. Peaceful and calm.
June 1, 2014
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Sitting on my parents’ back porch. Bird song began hours ago. Fancier birds than sing at home. Peaceful and calm.
June 1, 2014
Turquoise Tangles 
Screened-in, I see … sounds like you’re having a bit of “down time”, where “the cares that infest the day fold their tents like the Arabs, and silently steal away”. I think that’s pretty accurate; I didn’t look it up. Anyway, it’s a funny sort of thing how one’s troubles become a little smaller in the presence of out parents … no matter how old and supposedly competent we actually are,
It’s a good feeling.
Nice Adirondack chair, there on the right. I do hope those deckboards are painted battleship grey … it makes it complete.
Yes. Screened in. Atop my grandfather’s bluff. Overlooking the woods with a glimpse of the Mississippi river through the trees. It’s a gem of a spot. Thank you for knowing and saying what you did about being in the presence of our parents no matter how “grown up” our age is.
I smiled at the tent and Arab quote. It is new to me. What is the original source, without looking it up to be too fancy?
The white adirondack chair is a garage sale find that fit my mother’s short stature. I haven’t tried it out yet. I’ve gravitated to the white wicker love seat with a cushion.
The color of the floor IS gray. Smiled also at “battleship” as an adjective. I’ve stood on the Alabama and Missouri as a tourist. As well as the Yorktown, which to be clear is an aircraft carrier not a battleship.
Always great to chitchat with you. Will circle back later to respond to two of your previous comments. Home now to the house where the boys, dog, cat and I live. Glad we went. Glad for home. Wish the time in between had been longer, but no regrets.
Didn’t take much looking; it’s “The Day is Done” by Longfellow. Wordy, as Longfellow so often is, but ’tis the very last stanza. I’m sure that Mr. Clemens would be only too happy to apply his rules of writing to Longfellow’s windy poems. He did turn a neat phrase, now and then, though. But if I hear “The Wreck of the Hesperus” one more time, I’ll not be responsible for my actions.