Or, more likely, rain. (Drat! I do love meatballs.)
The Spokane sky seems threadbare, mostly gray, with only flimsy patches of blue showing through here and there. Reminds me of a favorite pair of jeans, so often washed and worn, so long loved and lived in, that the fabric is nearly transparent.
In short, I’m content to think quiet thoughts today, and do quiet things. Like writing, or reading, or maybe musing over an art project.
One of the many things I love about living in this part of Washington State is the marked difference between one season and the next.
Ah, but I didn’t see those growing.
With this one, I have been a witness to the magic, from sprout to vine to blossom to an actual squash.
How amazing is that?!
And now, suddenly, the sun is out, and Jen tells me it will be 90 later today.
All that waxing poetic, apparently for naught. Go figure.