It is Sunday, right? I lost an hour of sleep and that’s a valuable commodity these days so I’m not being all that grateful or graceful but that part about Our Daily Bread…
I love bread, especially home baked white bread. And it’s a Sunday kind of thing. It’s the day I might have time to make a loaf and then luxuriate with a big thick warm slice slathered with butter. Last fall I started in to my usual routine but you may remember this particular fiasco. The yeast was funky or something and when I turned it out the best I could do was look for an image of the Lord in it’s surface and then pitch it out for the squirrels. Unfortunately, the bread machine paddle was embedded in the bottom and when it dawned on me a week later the loaf had been dragged off into a mass of autumn leaves and that was the end of that. Over the winter the bread machine has gathered dust and I’ve been too preoccupied with parents and children and pending moves to make any from scratch.
So that warm Sunday loaf has been sadly missing and I think of that whenever I take communion where we use an unleavened granola-laced whole wheat flat bread: spiritual gratification only.
So what would you think if a beautiful gift box arrived Saturday afternoon in your mailbox, wrapped in lovely dragonfly etched brown paper? And when you opened it up there were two perfectly shaped, light and golden handmade loaves of white bread and it still had that fresh from the oven smell? You would think only Jane would send such a thing and how blessed am I that she is my friend?
We were out at Wit’s End over the weekend and the Spring Peepers were in full chorus. The air was literally vibrating with their song. The yellow spotted Salamanders are in full force as well but they remain strangely silent. We had BIG weather- one of my favorite things- with thunder, lightening, thick sheets of rain and tornado spottings but still those teeny tiny frog starts were singing away. Rich found this larger Northern Leopard frog on the drive and felt, for some reason, compelled to bring him in for a visit. He promptly peed on the carpet, posed for photos and was returned to lake’s edge. The frog, that is.
There’s bird watching and then there’s birding. To birders, the distinction is significant. Over at Melange, Roxanne’s felines have taken up bird watching (you really should go check out this amazing series of photos). While Sophie has a "thing" for Rhett, she has a bit of an attitude towards his approach to "bird watching." Here, she demonstrates proper birding technique. Never fear- I keep close tabs on her. Besides, in the end, she prefers mice. (Submitted for Carnival of the Cats hosted at Pet’s Garden Blog. Click to enlarge. I am sorely missing my PowerBook and Canon EOS partnership. Please forgive these marginal and recirculated photos while I wait for a new logic board. Comes a time when everyone needs a new logic board, right?)