You write your own blues song for today. Go ahead. use the standard, all-purpose “Woke up this mornin'” opener.
Not me*. Woke up this morning to a cool, overcast day here in America’s Third World Countyâ„¢. Out and about early. The greens really poppin’. Small town tree-lined-and-shaded (almost “tree-wrapped”) streets. Oaks and elms and maples and willows and pecans and walnuts and magnolias and… green, green grasses of every imaginable variety. My front yard, which is mostly suited to growing rocks and moles, nevertheless green and in need of mowing.
I tell myself it’s too wet.
Look at all the marigolds! And all the other purty flars I cain’t put a name to right now. (Sadly, my dandelion crop was a bit disappointing this year. *sigh*) In our front flar bed. Purty. And that hosta I transplanted from the neighbor’s yard (hey! He asked me to dig it up and take it. Really!) last week is lookin’ real good, too. Even those bulbs of some indeterminate flar from my neighbor’s back yard are shooting out fast. And that lil cypress I planted for Arbor Day I thought was dead? Shoots comin’ up at the base.
Heck, it’s too purty today to work myself to death, even though I have no client work scheduled and yard work beackons.
“It’s too wet to mow,” I repeat…
OTOH, I did pledge to Wonder Woman that I’d finish up Step 1 on the south wall of the living room. My son asked me why I was doing a complicated faux plaster/paint/glaze treatment since I plan to cover the whole wall with a bookcase/entertainment center. The answer, of course, is that I will know what’s behind all that.
You know, maybe that’s another issue to address in pop culture. Few seem to care what’s behind all the flash and sizzle… If it’s purty on the outside, on the part that’s seen then that’s all that seems to count for many.
Another day, maybe. Today’s just too beautiful.
OK, maybe later today…
🙂
*Yeh, I know, I know. The whole post is fulla all kindsa grammatical and spelling “errors”—s’all right. My mom’s (Madam Grammar) not reading this blog. heh