Mini Me

I can never know enough, so I am smitten with my iPhone, after all these months, still smitten. Sitting on the porch sipping wine and competing with gnats, searching for goblet covers, discovering the origin for tapas. Missing faithful painted bunting pairs, calling them for their evening meal. Inspecting dormant lantanas, seeing that future rain forecast is at 60%. Mellowing too much to climb stairs for using computer to post, emailing blog direct. Leaving after the farewell sunset sky, locking doors, needing light to find keyhole. Smitten.

Mall Madness

Shopping. Fitting room. Buying. Black poly-cotton blend long pants. Black stretch denim capris. Black shiny cotton 98% and spandex 2% capris. White jeans. You read that correctly. White jeans. Pockets trimmed with silver studs. Front and back. You've got the picture. Now try to get it out of your head.

(Go ahead and comment, but I already know about Spanx.)

Lovers Quarrel

There they go again. A few minutes of quiet suggested that they had kissed and made up. Cooling off in the river. But no, up on the rocky bank the voices rise, back and forth, then clashing in a raucous assault to the recently peaceful spring afternoon. Questions, shouts, accusations, declarations of right and wrong, all carried by the wind to my porch rocking chair. I continue to rock and read, willing them into droning bees or elevator music played when put on hold or whirring plane engines.
The wind shifts, and the young man and woman no longer exist, their bickering blown away with as little consequence as their tiff. Purple martins warble and swoop.