#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

A delicious extra hour of sleep. A cold house, windows wide open. How will they possibly get out the door on time? I have not helped. Somehow, they do. Of course they do. I take Charlie into the cool morning, past the sunflowers in the garden, all bowing toward the ground now. I must cut off their heads. Dry them and take the seeds. I have not been in the garden in days. Tomorrow I will check on my pumpkins. I registered for the triathalon Sunday, and don’t know if I’ll go for all or part or none. At noon I take a long bike ride before going to pick up my grandson from school. We go to the playground and his mother picks him up there. We have had races and games. I am listening to a novel by Anne Enright, The Wren, The Wren.” Funny, I only today realized that I was listening to a novel and not a memoir. It’s gorgeously written, and funny. I like it a lot. Friday night, played pickle and had dinner with family and friends, a lovely end to the week. Frank apologizes for being intense and competitive and I appreciate it and know he means it. It was a fun night. And suddenly cold.