Deliver Me From Daffodils

My almost-daily run takes me alongside a cow pasture, where the inhabitants look at me as though I am possessed, and then go back to stretching their necks through the barbed-wire fence, or the “bobwar”, as we Southerners call it, so that they can munch on the green, tender grass that grows alongside the road.

Soon I reach a stretch of woodland, and I see a squirrel or two, and a wren or a mockingbird will accompany me for a few steps, with me pacing along as he flits from bush to bush. Then there is an almost-clear area where a mobile home inhabited by a family with small children once sat. A rope swing and a rundown play house give evidence of this.

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Fame is Fleeting……..

Yesterday was not a very good day for me. I am not yet recovered from “whatever is going around”, as the doctors diagnose it. I finished my Z pack and my steroid treatment, then started on an antibiotic that makes me feel fully as bad as the “whatever” symptoms. I have not been able to walk my miles each morning, much less run them.

I picked up the two daily newspapers from the box at the side of the road, returned to the galley (that’s the kitchen to you landlubbers), prepared to breakfast and read after threatening the cats with a spray bottle to keep them off the table/

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