Saturday Morning Slowdown

41 and soft rain this morning.

The cardinals are at the feeders anyway, poor birds. I always wonder how birds manage to survive no matter the weather.

Three fellows waiting their turn. Can you spot them?

Larry's morning started with a recharge--literally. He left the door open on his truck, so the battery went dead. It looks like the two vehicles are kissing, doesn't it?

Still chasing the roof leak, but I think we're closing in on it. This rainy month has reminded me of an old tale from Aesop:

A man who had two daughters married one to a gardener, the other to a potter. After awhile he paid a visit to the gardener's, and asked his daughter how she was and how it fared with her.
"Excellently well," said she; "we have everything that we want; I have but one prayer, that we may have a heavy storm of rain to water our plants."

Off he set to the potter's, and asked his other daughter how matters went with her.

"There is not a thing we want," she replied; "and I only hope this fine weather and hot sun may continue, to bake our tiles."

"Alack," said the father, "if you wish for fine weather, and your sister for rain, which am I to pray for myself?"


I was up too late last night, sorting papers in preparation for income tax return time. I do so well until about August, then I fall behind, and now here I am with all these receipts to enter. I do the same thing every year. Procrastination must be my middle name. So this morning I'm taking some time to browse online before once again entering the fray of the day--painting, I think is the order for work this day.

A friend sent along a link to one of NPR's Tiny Desk Concerts this morning, and it certainly got me off to a nice start. The group is called Rising Appalachia, from the Atlanta, Georgia area. I like the last song especially well--the group plays a wide range of music, but this last one is a classic Appalachian song, done with their own unique style. You can watch the concert by clicking here.

A little treat to myself is an email from Poem-a-Day, every day in my inbox. This morning's is a rousing reminder of the long hard journey for civil rights, by the black poet Carrie Law Morgan Figgs and published in 1921.

We are Marching Carrie Law Morgan Figgs                      1. We are marching, truly marching     Can’t you hear the sound of feet?  We are fearing no impediment     We have never known defeat.                       2.  Like Job of old we have had patience,    Like Joshua, dangerous roads we’ve trod  Like Solomon we have built out temples.     Like Abraham we’ve had faith in God.                       3.  Up the streets of wealth and commerce,     We are marching one by one We are marching, making history,    For ourselves and those to come.                       4.  We have planted schools and churches,    We have answered duty’s call.  We have marched from slavery’s cabin     To the legislative hall.                       5.  Brethren can’t you catch the spirit?    You who are out just get in line Because we are marching, yes we are marching     To the music of the time.                       6. We are marching, steady marching     Bridging chasms, crossing streams  Marching up the hill of progress    Realizing our fondest dreams.                         7.  We are marching, truly marching     Can’t you hear the sound of feet?  We are fearing no impediment    We shall never know defeat.  Enjoy your weekend, friends!

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.