Early in the morning I sat at the window watching the two surviving ducks forage at the lake's edge.
I've discovered that in certain situations I have a tendency to hedge on the truth, and I hate that. I signed up for the Lifeline medical testing held at the Presbyterian church on Bluecutt Road in Columbus.
The green heron stood on the dock with its two short twig-like yellow legs. Usually the screen door opens and he takes flight immediately.
Sam and I went to see Prairie neighbors Nick and Eleanor Hairston's granddaughter Reed's school musical where she belted out the "Hero" song. I've been thinking about that song ever since.
The doctor warned our cholesterol levels were rising, not dangerously so, but rising. No medicines were required, but paying closer attention to our eating habits was advised.
'Tis the season for creeping vines waiting to bring forth untold misery to the gentle gardener.
Robin handed me the book "The Happiness Project," and like a moth to a flame I was drawn to the subtitle, "Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun." The book is by Gretchen Rubin.
Driving west over the Tombigbee Bridge and exiting north onto Plymouth Access Road leads to a trail of wildflowers not to be believed.
Sam power-washed the back porch along with the Adirondack chairs. I beat the rugs and fluffed the cushions.
The email was sent. It read, "I'm upgrading my computer to Windows 10. If you don't hear from me, you'll know I was unsuccessful."
Our prairie grass grew tall, until Sam retrieved his 1994 Dixon lawnmower from the shed. All across the Prairie lawnmowers and tractors with bush hogs came to life.
Looking across the Tenn-Tom Waterway from the West Bank, we saw young men playing basketball. Farther down a small boy twirled a smaller girl on a swing. Sam and I reminisced about when we'd twirl ourselves dizzy and tumble to the ground while everyone fell out laughing.
The carpenter bees are out, as are the bee traps. Already we've captured a half-a-dozen or so bees. The kittens are mesmerized, watching bees buzz around, tumbling on top of each other.
I'm still taken with the Tiny House concept and author Dee Williams who listed all her personal belongings on one yellow legal-size sheet of paper.
"Migratory birds will start coming this month," he said. "Last year I fed four pairs of rose-breasted grosbeaks."
Hungry birds are always welcome.
To be honest, I'm not liking this New Year's Resolution very much at all. It's been 66 days now since I resolved not to buy any apparel, shoes or jewelry, nothing to decorate myself up with for a whole year.
I slipped down the back way to Lincoln Road, which runs between Walmart and the shopping center, for my massage appointment.
Wednesday is "Ash Wednesday." It's the beginning of the Lenten season where traditionally Christians give up something like smoking, drinking coffee or maybe cussing.
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