Cat in sunshine.
Fiercely gorgeous day and the railroad guys are back and the chickens are running around the yard and Camellia is back on the porch and just a few minutes ago the gray and white feral was too but he took off when he saw me.
I took a walk this morning and I'm glad, as always, that I did.
As I was just about home, I stopped to chat with the guy who digs worms for fishing. We talked about fish and Lloyd Creek and when I told him I used to take my kids there to swim thirty-something years ago, he said, "Whoa! How old are you?"
He insisted that I don't look over thirty-five which of course is pure and unadulterated bullshit but it was sweet and then we discussed walking which we both enjoy doing and when he left he picked up his bucket of worms and said, "Now I'm gonna go drown these babies!" and off he went to the creek and I came home, passing Mr. Lawrence's abandoned store where this was taped on the side of the building.
I don't know. I guess that in our world today there is no real need for the circus but oh, I remember when a circus coming to town was about the most exciting thing there could possibly be.
And there is a part of me which would want Owen and Gibson to be able to experience some of that death-defying action under a big top with the smell of animal manure and the spangles and the top hats and the magic.
I don't know.
They do use elephants and big cats so I suppose we should boycott them. Yes. Of course we should.
Do the right thing.
I need to get to town. I'm babysitting August for a little while this afternoon and I am eager to see him.
Be well, y'all.