Last night, neither Sheba nor I could get to sleep. She was up and down, on and off the bed and I was tossing and turning. Finally, I realized that we were both hot, so I got up and opened the window and left it open all night.
There is no rain at all predicted for the next ten days. It is lovely weather; it’s going to be in the low twenties this week in the afternoons. I worry about our aquifer and having enough water to keep my gardens alive. Sunday was fabuous; the afternoon was a lovely seventeen degrees.
Eoin, François, their Whippets, Sheba and I went on a nice long morning walk to start our Sunday, on a trail that was new to me. Afterwards I had a little lie down in the sunshine before doing some cleaning up of the yard and gardens.
In mid-afternoon, I had my usual walk with Anna and Minjou, and Anna had invited Donna and Di to join us, so the four of us—and our three dogs—had a lovely confab (at a distance) in the warmth of the afternoon sunshine. And treats! Then I came home to enjoy my spa and some quality time in the quiet and privacy of my backyard.
Three days ago, Spring turned into Summer and ever since the afternoon temperatures have been seventeen degrees or above. This weather makes the virus not matter. I’m outside all day, making my place look as nice as I can and loving the feeling of the sun on my back. I could endure this pattern forever; I can sustain anything if I’m feeling healthy and I’m able to be outdoors all day with Sheba.
Last evening my buddy the Downy Woodpecker brought her partner, and you should have seen him. His face and head are like a peacock; he has markings on his eyes that function like Elizabeth Taylor’s mascara in Cleopatra. He’s absolutely magnificent. He has a large punk-style headdress of straight and vertical bright red hair on the top of his head.
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