rainy tuesday

So, as I do not have internet at the house, the idea of blogging daily has failed. Instead I am going to try to do a few posts at a time weekly or bi-weekly when I come to Starbucks (ah the comforts of commercial coffee) with my wee computer. Is the foam in my London fog perfect? No. Do I care? Not even a little bit. I will come and I will blog, and then I am going to write write write on some poems.

I am sassy towards foam right now because I am nursing a steam burn on the inside of my left wrist the size of a half-dollar. My danskos are further broken in, and the seedlings I planted last week have sprouted like mad in the warm wet weather, so this afternoon Emma and I are gardening. Being on my feet eight hours a day and carrying heavy things has given me some bicep and calf definition, which is nice. I am going to use those muscles today to dig some dirt before flopping on the couch and watching a movie.

Here are a few instagram photos, one of the house and two of life, soon I will take real, artsy pictures of the house and yard so you can imagine my happy but worn-out existence!

 The last red balloon from Pentecost Sunday suspended in our cozy pretty living room.

 Salad dressing danskos on break.

My apron, dotted work bag, and book of Anglican sunrise liturgy poems
 by a Canadian Anglican female priest.