the ice in my Bulliet bourbon quietly crackles, wooing in the evening on this, a still sunday.i smile to myself as i consider the chance to draw those winding lanky limbs of the australian eucalypts, like i did as a teenager, from the windows of our home that looked into the far-reachers of the national park.
i can sit on the back porch, with the great sky above me, yet still undercover, and gaze at the soft swaying bushels of those tall trees i told you about.
its starting to sprinkle here and the onions in the saucepan are probably a tad past 'golden'. evening ladies and gents.
a.
p.s. hydrangea update - to my sadness, a yard man came yesterday and started de-foliaging my driveway. the beautifully hydrangea lined one i was telling you about! sadness. well at least i enjoyed the last buds while i could.
