I’ve been quite inclined to do very little. But the dog will have none of that.
We walked in the rain, which is actually very fun, assuming 1) you abandon yourself to getting wet, and, 2) you can come home to dry, clean clothes.
The walking gave me time to think about words and things I ought to be doing and people I miss. It also gave me time to watch the river, in a big ol’ hurry to get over the rocks and under the bridge, where it settles into a slower flow.
After we got home, I dried the dog with a towel, then went to make tea. The dog disappeared. I don’t know where he went. I looked upstairs to make sure that I wouldn’t find a soggy dog on the guest bed. Nope. No dog.
I looked on our bed, but all I found was a napping cat. I didn’t find the dog anywhere. After awhile, he reappeared and curled up on his bed next to my desk. I’m trying not to pry, but am very curious where he was.
A Wednesday mystery.
I think that’s kind of great.
And all this is mine.
This afternoon, I’m turning that rhubarb into jam by roasting it with brown sugar, ginger, and cinnamon.
Oh, and I enjoyed reading this article about R.F. Scott’s Antarctic medicine chest.
And this? Well this just made me smile.