Fresh squeezed O.J.

Nothing better.....

When dad would come to stay with me, since he was always an early riser, he'd get up, pick oranges off my trees and squeese them. Then rinsing his hands but nor drying, he'd drip his way to my bedroom, knock on the door and try and tempt me up with a big freshly squeezed glass of o.j. and say "I hope you lie the service in this hotel."

What is it about gardening that is so good for the soul. It makes me feel good to pull weeds, plant impatients, petunias and marigolds and seeds in the form of tomatos, basil, and cut freesias. They look so pretty and they are good for the soul and my spirit. They make me happy. They will probably all die while I'm away unless I have Gloria come over to water. The rain has already all but stopped. We didn't have much this year.

There is a cat living under my house. I think. Lacey follwed her under today. I've got to replace that screen when I'm sure she's out. She goes under to escape from Brutus, a big neutered Tom, that slinks thru my yard looking for handouts. He likes it when I clean out my frig. Brutus once jumped up on my legs to attack...I hosed him. Then the next day he lets me pat his head, the next pick him up and today pat him them growls and hisses at me, I can meow, growl and hiss back louder...sorry cat I am the alpha not you. I pay the property tax.