Another Friday
Sep. 24th, 2009 10:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ksmithI do love weekends, but damn, the days are just zipping past. Novelists Inc. conference next week in St Louis--I'll be driving down. Looking forward to seeing folks, sitting in the hotel lobby and people-watching, and just plain getting a break from the routine.
The vet saw Gaby on Tuesday for follow-up on her wound. It's healing well. Staples will come out on Monday. The area was shaved, and the combo of regrowing hair, healing, and the staples must be bugging the Gabster because she licks and scratches the area. Or tries to. Good thing that the tattered remains of her t-shirt are still in place to protect matters.
I said I wouldn't post about tomatoes anymore. I lied. Today I ate the last of my fresh harvest, a Black Crim that sported a few dots of mold. I cut that part away. The rest was delicious, creamy with characteristic saltiness. I had it as a side with leftover spaghetti.
The scant remains of my garden--the bell pepper, thyme, mesclun sprouts below, and the tiny banana pepper all by its lonesome in the upper tier.
And finally, a mourning cloak butterfly. They're common in northern Illinois, apparently, but this is the first one I have ever seen so closely or so clearly. I spotted it sunning itself in one of the hanging baskets. Approached as closely as I dared, then made use of my Coolpix's limited zoom. The butterfly remained still, even as I took photo after photo. I quit snapping well before it departed.
First glimpse:
"My close-up, Mr. deMille."
The vet saw Gaby on Tuesday for follow-up on her wound. It's healing well. Staples will come out on Monday. The area was shaved, and the combo of regrowing hair, healing, and the staples must be bugging the Gabster because she licks and scratches the area. Or tries to. Good thing that the tattered remains of her t-shirt are still in place to protect matters.
I said I wouldn't post about tomatoes anymore. I lied. Today I ate the last of my fresh harvest, a Black Crim that sported a few dots of mold. I cut that part away. The rest was delicious, creamy with characteristic saltiness. I had it as a side with leftover spaghetti.
The scant remains of my garden--the bell pepper, thyme, mesclun sprouts below, and the tiny banana pepper all by its lonesome in the upper tier.
And finally, a mourning cloak butterfly. They're common in northern Illinois, apparently, but this is the first one I have ever seen so closely or so clearly. I spotted it sunning itself in one of the hanging baskets. Approached as closely as I dared, then made use of my Coolpix's limited zoom. The butterfly remained still, even as I took photo after photo. I quit snapping well before it departed.
First glimpse:
"My close-up, Mr. deMille."
