BEES IN THE THYME

Original wallpaper, c. 1850

I almost drank a beetle a little while ago. It had climbed into and drowned in the water glass next to my bed. I picked it up without looking and didn’t react to the detritus until I had sipped some. I didn’t swallow. Probably nutritious anyway.

It's too hot in the upstairs bedroom, while it is perfectly beautiful out here in the yard with the cawing crows and a jingly Emmylou, and, of course, the waves of cars. JV is off getting some bbq supplies for this evening. I guess I could be prepping but I really don't want to. Am I bad? We had roasted golden beets on Sunday evening. That was new and yummy.

The final rounding up of items is underway. I especially loathe this part of packing up. The little things one doesn't want to deal with. I need to put on my "less is more" glasses and think about whether I really need some of this. Same as it ever was.

So, besides procrastinating and packing and hanging out with JV and the cats, I have a new project at Sociative. It takes more time, but I am learning some new social media stuff, so that is good. Cooder did not like last week's moving activity so I spent some time napping and petting there.

It smells like thyme in this yard. JV told me that many years ago he grew some lemon thyme and now it has spread like a ground cover. Kind of pretty, too, with small lavender-ish flowers as it re-seeds itself. There's a bee in the thyme right now, snorkeling up some good pollen.

I really am reasonably good, just kind of quiet, again, and unfocussed, but maybe that is just the stress of moving again and re-settling. I've been reading Stacy Schiff's biography of Cleopatra. Quite a good read, but very dense and detailed. I had no idea that the Ptolemies were Greek, Macedonians, in fact, and had arrived with Alexander the Great. So Cleo wasn't actually Egyptian. 

Well, dears, back of the making of dinner.