What Day Is It?

I think it was Wednesday today. Each 24 hours around the sun blends into another. Told to not go into work, my mother, Marigold and I bugged out to the country, not quite a week ago.

I’ve spent this time planting my big garden. G90 corn under planted with contender green beans: 2 rows. Almost half a row of squash: zucchini and yellow crooked neck. The rest of the rows will be zinnias, cosmos, bishop’s flower and a multitude of sunflowers. Pink flamingo whirlygigs mark where I’ve planted what. Plus, detailed notes are kept in a notebook. A gentle rain for most of yesterday (Tuesday?) graced the turned ground, making it perfect for planting.

Early evening, after a simple supper of braised chicken tenders and tossed salad, I sat down at the piano and right hand pecked out old hymns. I have trouble reading bass clef. Marigold was on the porch and she started barking, when she heard my feeble notes. Everyone is a critic.

Gardening. Writing. Music- kinda. What’s keeping you from going stir crazy?

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Blessings from the Exile’s Kitchen while hunkering down at Flowers Proper.