Dear readers, it is sometimes hard to come up with yet another photograph for a blog post. I mean, how many photos of the interior of my house can I inundate you with until you begin to scream?
And the outside? Well, it isn’t all that attractive at the moment. We’re in that pocket between winter and spring. The daffodils are coming up. I see some growth here and there, but taking a photo of it would require a kneeling position on the cold grass and/or gravel and that ain’t gonna happen today.
It’s too early to clean out the garden beds as there as been mild frost the past two nights, so the leaf mulch must stay in place for a while longer. So no pretty pictures from the garden.
And really, do you want to see pictures of all the debris from the wind and falling limbs and that sort of thing that I raked up yesterday afternoon? I thought not. Actually, raking wore me out. I realize that I have to get back into gardening shape after a fairly sedentary winter. But it was so lovely to be outside on a cold, but sunny, day.
And certainly you don’t want to see pictures of me vacuuming every corner of the house, which is what I did after raking? No, of course you don’t.
This is the dilemma of the every-day-of-the-year blogger. Sometimes, life isn’t all that interesting. Or photogenic.
But I do have one little photo for you, snapped this morning in a moment of desperation.
This is where my tiny Wallace Nutting ended up. I couldn’t find the perfect place to hang it, at least not until I get a few more smallish Nuttings for the wall in the office. Then I’ll be able to insert it into a larger display. But I quite like it here on the shelf in the den, in front of the Nancy Drews. It works.
That copy of Anne of Green Gables was my mother’s. I was lamenting the loss of some of my mother’s childhood books that were also a part of our childhood one day on the blog. They had lived on a shelf in our bedroom. Our estranged sister somehow ended up with a lot of them. When Meredith read the post, she remembered that she had some of Mom’s books, so she secretly sent them off in the mail and completely surprised me. I opened the package to find Anne, along with Mom’s copy of Daddy Long Legs, and one of my dad’s books. I’ll freely say that I cried. It was like a reunion with dearly loved friends.
I have the best sister.
Happy Sunday.
