Cherries by Casey, my 11-year-old grandson. They are CGI, but I thought they looked so good I talked him into allowing me the right to use them.
These cherries look like the sort I used to pick way back in high school--under duress--I might add.
My folks had a cherry orchard, and they thought I ought to be out there picking fruit. We kids, sitting atop a cherry-picking ladder, used to eat our fill, then throw them at each other. A few managed to get into a bucket, then a box.
As I remember, we picked them for 5 cents a pound.
Oh, my week? Thanks for asking. I was distracted by Casey's water on cherries. This past week I feel that I have been drinking from a fire-hose.
I've been taking #Marie Forleo's B-School course, and feeling overwhelmed. It's a course for business people which I'm not, but I'm a wanna-be.
And then Saturday was DEMOLITION DAY!
We rented a John Deere scoop tractor and tore up the yard. The weather notice said there would be wind, but since I had reserved the tractor, I figured, a little wind, so what.
Husband dear and I took turns at the wheel, oh a tractor has levers not a wheel, you know, bucket up, bucket down, scoop, right, left, it's fun. I learned on a Bob Cat, which I thought we were getting, but the John Deere worked the same. I figured husband dear could rescue me if I got stuck--he's been known to do that.
After he cleaned up the remains of an old shed and filled some boxes with dirt for raised vegetable beds, I set off for the front yard to sculpt.
Well, that day was the most blustery one we have had since we lived here.
Even though the tractor had a roof, the sides were open, and the wind carried in the rain until my raincoat that isn't water-proof any longer weighed about ten pounds. The yard turned to mud, I spun the wheels but managed to get out without rescue. The wind blew down a neighbor's tree and shut off the power for the afternoon.
The yard looks like a hurricane hit it.
I slept for about 12 hours afterward.
I'm not as young as I used to be.
The miracle is, I'm still here.
And how was your week?
The Frog's Song by Joyce Davis
For more information on The Frog's Song, I invite you to click on https://thefrogssong.com
Joyce's travels have taken her beyond the shores of her native continent, but she's back where she started, in Oregon.