protecting the turf of the little guy

Rosie’s red lips kissed the dust good bye and away she and I flew on an errand morning.

She rewarded me with a clever maneuver when someone pulled out from a side street and did not spot me, or her. How could you not see Rosie? She is so stunningly beautiful! And spicy bright red. Jeez, get off the cell phones already, people! Look out for the small fry on the road!

We flew home together unscathed, moods swinging high, passing hills and vales and struggling cyclists.

Home, finally. Or almost home. Slowed down to wave at the farmer across the road and in seeing us, the farmer perked up and ambled over to her wheelbarrow...





...where she reached for the finest flowers and handed them to us, out of the generosity of her heart. (Or a secret love for Rosie.)





Later, I fired up the grill. Ed’s friend is in town and that is occasion enough to grill brats (of the chicken and hot pepper variety) and corn and to make blueberry frozen yogurt.









Because Ed’s friend came with his dog, Isis jumped high into the rafters of the garage and stayed there until I coaxed him down. Last I heard, the dog wanted to play chase. Isis would have none of it. Smart animal. One should always avoid being chased by those who are significantly larger and more powerful than us.