Sunrise, sunsetI've always loved the lyrics of that song from "Fiddler On the Roof." The red sunrise of the day before the rain was followed last evening by this glorious sunset. In the spirit of fair play (in Fair Play), I felt it was deserving of equal time here.
Swiftly fly the years
It was a half-hearted rain, more of a drizzle off and on, a perfect day to stay in, watch the race, and bake bread to take to Tinka and Bill today. I tried a new recipe for challah (such a pretty loaf) and good old, tried-and-true Black Forest pumpernickel. It's a good thing the challah made two loaves because my house smelled so delicious, had I not been able to slice into one there's a distinct possibility I would have shortchanged Tinka and Bill. I'm good, but not that good, and fresh-baked bread is just too much temptation.
The local turkey tribe and I seem to be on the same wake-up schedule. At five-thirty every morning, the turkey commune that evidently has moved into my woods loudly starts the day, even before the neighborhood roosters sound off. I'm fascinated by the internal clock of animals. I think we're about to get screwed up again when the powers that be decide to change the clocks. Not concerned with such human folderol, my feathered and furred friends will stick with sunrise-sunset and go on about their business.
The skies are clear this morning. It's going to be another good day.