Snoozing in Sunshine

In the kitchen this morning I saw the reflection of Gatto looking like he was sleeping in the ferns. It was clearer than the photo, but I still had to post it. Gatto floating in a bed of ferns. Seems appropriate.

I'm sorry I have been AWOL lately. When I get something in my mind I stick with it and I have become focused on a deeper cleaning of the house. Considering the condition of my mobility it is a slow process, but one which I am actually accomplishing. The downside is I cannot focus on more than one thing at a time, so blogland gets ignored. Then I feel bad and out of the loop. It's really quite interesting how this little community of friends I've never met can mean so much to me. The truth is it does.

Too Hot

Yesterday slipped away from me. There was PT, then lots of errands. The Culligan man came out to change the filters on the reverse osmosis system, I made bread and spent time talking on the phone. Yep, I still do that. Before I knew it, there was late afternoon and I was done for the day. I never did get here to see what was up. 

Gatto and Frieda spend considerable time bird watching. Frieda is a chirper as she dreams of the hunt. Gatto just watches. We've had a lot of rain. Somewhere around six inches. The grass is long, the gardens are overtaken and everything is emerald green. Unfortunately, with the rain comes the humidity. It will be hot and the air will be thick with that punishing moisture for probably the rest of the summer. I feel the weather of the South has moved north. Ah, well.

Last evening was another quick and easy meal made from leftover pork loin roast. Right up my alley.

I've got a bunch of things I need to do before the heat ramps up. I will check in with everyone later today. Until then, stay cool. 

Caught

 

The assassin has been apprehended.

The toddler-in-chief is having a tantrum over the protests and is threatening blue states with increased ICE presence for increased raids.  His parade did not please him. 45 million well spent.

I am not going to turn this space into my angry place, but after Saturday I believe I am allowed a bit of anger mixed with sadness. As we all are, really. It happened here but it could have happened anywhere.

Adding a bit of brightness. Heirloom roses from a dozen years ago.

Some sweet and sour. Like life.

Standing Up

 

Yesterday was a deeply disturbing, sad day in Minnesota. As you likely know, a state representative and her husband were murdered by a now known, but still at large man, leaving their children parentless. He also attempted to assassinate a state senator and his wife, shooting both multiple times. Somehow, they survived. We all knew it was only a matter of time, with the hateful and inflammatory rhetoric coming from the highest places in our national government. Knowing does not make the shock and sorrow any easier. 

There was a shelter in place warning which included the planned protest at the state capitol. People came anyway, some saying they came because of this assassination. People showed up across the state to tell our government we will not submit to authoritarian rule. The massive numbers across the country and the world say more about the dissent than anything I can say.

I saw yesterday the response from MAGA. Exactly what I expected. I believe the true believers are irredeemable. I and the majority of my country will not stand for the crowning of a king. The seating of a dictator. The rule by oligarchs.

Another Tour

A couple of weeks ago I took you on a tour of my former neighborhood. When I was out and about on Tuesday I made an attempt to take some video out the car window. A thing I haven't done before and it shows. 

This is the view of the very small town of St. Bonifacius. It's the closest to our house but in a different county. A busy highway runs through it so it is not exactly a bucolic sight.

This is our road and my pasture with the mares happily eating grass. This was the worst of the videos, of course. I had to take it from a distance and through the front windshield.

Later we went to the small town which is the center of the township we live in.

Somehow a certain person managed to take a photo of her feet.

Home sweet home

The mares decided to take a break from pasture.

 

Once upon a time I grew roses, lots of them. All that now remains is two rambling rose bushes. There is no amount of neglect able to do them in. 

Tomorrow will be a day for the history books. A military parade in the United States and nationwide protests. I wish I could participate but it's not possible. Know that I am with you all over this country of ours.

A Step Too Far

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Just a Note

Little Miss Naughty Pants

Frieda and I both overslept this morning. It's understandable as it is gloomy and drizzly outside. Yesterday morning was wasted but I did plant tomatoes and get part of the lawn mowed in the afternoon. Mark got another flower bed weeded. We may be finished with outside cleanup before the first frost.

 

The Wheels Go Round and Round

 

How life in the good old US of A is feeling lately.

It was a busy one yesterday. A rare occasion for me indeed! We also had a couple of inches of glorious rain. Today I'm back to my normal, so here I am, wrinkles and all. Yippee!

Happy June 1st

Cattin' Around

 Becomes Cats Gettin’ Down

as the temperature goes up.

Authors and Such

I recently reread (listened) The Great Gatsby, as we all know wrote by F. Scott Fitzgerald. This led my thoughts to Saint Paul and my former community. Fitzgerald was born in Saint Paul where his family lived in this property in the Hill District, which starts on the bluffs of the Mississippi River and continues for a few miles west.

This is on the eastern end, I lived closer to the western end. James J. Hill had a "home" right on Summit Avenue, on the bluff looking down to the city. Hill was a robber baron of the railroad form. 

Fitzgerald moved to this townhouse on Summit with his wife, Zelda, in the 1920s, where he wrote Gatsby, The plaque in front indicates which was their home.

Another Minnesotan was Sinclair Lewis, not T.S Lewis, brain  fog.  He was born in Sauk Center, Minnesota, which is North Central, I think. I went there often enough for a horse show, so I really should know for sure. This was his home on Summit, not too far west of the Fitzgerald row house. This home was somewhere along the way given the name of The Lemon Meringue House. 

 

Summit Avenue is several miles long and it and the blocks to the south and north is a historic district. The governor's mansion is on Summit, kitty-corner to my former house, one block north on Portland Avenue. 

A brief tour of my hometown and the area where I lived for thirteen years. As I have aged I find I miss it every-once-in- awhile.

My former home.

Image taken from Zillow.

** Added as an afterthought

       James J. Hill Mansion**