6:26 |
7:11 |
Below is another poem from yesterday's Writers Almanac, reminding me of the end of summer.
August
by John Updike
The sprinkler twirls.
The summer wanes. The pavement wears Popsicle stains. The playground grass Is worn to dust. The weary swings Creak, creak with rust. The trees are bored With being green. Some people leave The local scene And go to seaside Bungalows And take off nearly All their clothes. |
Yesterday was a rainy Sunday morning, and afternoon, but it cleared around 6:00. So we had a leisurely Sunday, spent mostly inside, reading, watching some TV in the afternoon, unusual for us, and Evie put together a ricotta pie for tonight's Labor Day picnic. Around 11:00, the rain seemed to abate, so I put my bike in the car and drove to the CI for a ride. I did not push myself, rode up and down the various streets, paying attention to the front yard gardens, all still in bloom, especially the hydrangeas. I circled the grounds twice, taking just around forty five minutes, just the right amount and as I started back to the south end, crossing Thunder Bridge, it started to rain, perfect timing.
For lunch, I had another chicken enchilada, cooked up a couple more ears of corn, before taking a nap, reading some, waiting for the FIBA World Cup basketball game between the US and Turkey. Evie decided to watch a thriller, Enemy of the State, and I joined her. It's an older film, about the NSA, their spying on individuals so it had some relevance and we enjoyed it till the end when it got silly. I then watched the Turks takes a six point half time lead over Team USA but eventually lose by twenty points, a moral victory.
Last Night On Lenhart Porch |
Thelma and Louise |
Butch and Sundance |
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