Saturday began with an absolute deluge of rain. The driveway flooded. A river formed in the back yard. From inside the house, the rain soaked windows provided fascinating filters that blurred the leaf littered yard and bare trees into beautiful abstract landscapes of orange and green.
I began the footstool project, it currently awaits another coat of paint. Weaving will commence once the paint is dry.
The grackles descended en masse Sunday. Don't let these solitary fellows fool you. There were hundreds of them. HUNDREDS. I couldn't help imagine them all landing on the roof at once then flying off together, as they do, carrying off the house with them. (Don't worry, they perch in trees, not on the roof.)
While the paint on the footstool dried and the birds searched for insects, I went for a long, muddy walk in the woods. As much as I'd like to do that again today, it's high time to begin the great yard clean-up. Speaking of which, something is sprouting in the buckets in which last fall I scattered seeds collected from purple coneflowers and, um, something else I can't remember. Whether the sprouts are wildflowers or weeds, I have no idea, but I am certain they are telling us Spring has arrived.
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