It’s Friday morning. Yes it is. Up on the air is sound of Trouble’s show from yesterday. Reconnecting me with Nic Drake, celebrating Nina once again, it ain’t over till the birds honk and the French gent comments and even then it ain’t done. Oh, wow, Minnie Ripperton, people used to think of this as new and fresh at one time, didn’t they?
It rained last night . It was upposed to rain all morning. Bu it aint raining now. Cloudy though,. You can’t see more than two hundred yards out, my eyes straining for Skyptop involuntarily. So far this new feeder contraption I got for Chirsmas, after I myself throew it on a list, is surviving the test. Squirles and pondered it and last night a racoon was crawling around beneath it. And neither speices made a go of it. Neither did the deer. One suspects this will change. Someone will succeed in damaging it. Perhaps it will be a bear.
There is a patch of grass and williows between our house and the trail, down below at where I’m presently gazing. I put some jack o’ lanterns down there last Halloween and it occurred to me, rather forcefully that what I should do is plant an overwhelming amount of pumpkins down there so that come Halloween it is a cacophony of squash. I got the seeds here on my desk. But if you read their packets they tell you they’ll take four months to grow so plant in July if you want for Oct. For a pumpkin patch of the absurd, I don’t think it necessarily matters when they come out.
Friday, 03/26/21
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