Has Anyone Seen My Patience?

I think I put it somewhere safe. My patience, that is. I suspect some of my sense of humor is in the same place. I have looked and looked, but it is nowhere to be found. I’ll try again tomorrow.

This morning I wandered about the yard to take some pictures. Venturing far from home is difficult now – far being, like, beyond the end of the driveway. My reward for venturing into the yard in the (relatively) early morning? Mosquito bites! Fine! I did get more pictures than I did bites though, so I think that’s a win. Maybe.

Did you know bees burrow right into the blossom of the Penstemon? I didn’t. Until this morning when I saw them doing it. The problem is, once they get in you can’t see them, so a picture of the bee burrowed loses something. They also do not like to sit still for very long. Obviously they have not been taught portrait etiquette.

We are back to hot weather. I don’t like hot weather. I don’t like when going out the door into the sunshine makes me want to curl up in a ball and roll down the little slope into the pond. With the fish. And the snails. And the water bugs. You know, the kind that skate along on the surface of the water. I’d like to be able to do that. Skate on top of water. I’d also like to be able to skate along the surface of ice, but my feet and legs seem to think that’s a foreign action. Not something I should do. I learned this many years ago, when the idea of falling on hard ice was not a big deal. Now? Now falling on any surface is a big deal. That’s one of the pleasures of maturity.

Maturity has many of those pleasures. Like not remembering the safe place once put one’s patience. And sense of humor.

I remember when I stayed up until 2 or 3 in the morning on weekends. And slept until 10 or 11. Obviously that part of my memory still works. What I don’t remember is why that seemed like a good idea at the time.

See that? I have Nasturtiums blooming! I haven’t had much luck with them here in past years, so I am thrilled that they are making pretty for me now. If only Lily didn’t think in the middle of them was a good place to lay. Okay, so I didn’t catch her in the act, but I’m pretty sure it was neither Bailey nor Shasta. And Twiggy? No. She says no. She says she is an innocent. It had to be Lily.

Evening clouds, with just a touch of blush. It’s important not to overdo the blush. Too much and suddenly a thing of beauty becomes a garish overload of color. The evening clouds are discreet and wise. Don’t you agree?

Now if only those evening clouds would share some of their wisdom, and give me a hint. Just a hint. Where the heck did I put that patience? And that sense of humor? They’ve got to be here somewhere!