I was overly optimistic when I said the wind had died down yesterday morning. It did, in fact, calm for awhile, but kicked up again before Michael's first walk. "Come on, Michael, don't dawdle. It's cold!" Fortunately he agreed and took care of business posthaste. By the time of his afternoon walk, it was gusting so strongly that it almost literally knocked me off my feet. Michael looked like he was standing on the bow of the Titanic as he faced into the wind with his hair blown back. Camille asked how I was coming with the deck project. I wasn't. There wasn't much sense in replacing the furniture and pots, etc., just to have everything blown about again.
I huddled under the lap robe to watch The Picture Of Dorian Gray (1945, Hurd Hatfield, George Sanders, Angela Lansbury, Donna Reed, Peter Lawford). It's a Gothic morality play written by Oscar Wilde in 1890. The movie won a number of Academy Awards, and it's worth watching (even for the umpteenth time).
The wind wasn't quite so strong by the last walk of the day, but it was still chill and Michael, bless him, stepped up the pace. It's blowing again today.
Crows wake up at the crack of dawn. It's barely light and they're yelling their heads off. It's time to get moving, but I can't...Ralph is on my lap.
1 comment:
I heard that at Kirkwood, the wind was clocked OVER TWO HUNDRED MILES AN HOUR! I thought of you and Tinka!! Glad you didn't play like a character from Wizard of Oz!
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