It was a warm and windy Monday, with not much to report, except the return of the catbird. I had never seen a catbird until last year, and I have been hoping it would return. Today it flew in and enjoyed some suet, much to my delight.
Another welcome return is the toad under the water tank. He had not flown south, but was in hibernation underground. It was good to see him today.
Harry had to deliver a sculpture to St. Louis county today. Before he could close the hatch, Weedy jumped in, not wanting to be forgotten on a trip to town. No fear of that. Soon, the sculptor and his assistant were on the road.
In the front garden, the azalea is blooming. My mother, who was a wonderful gardener, had a gorgeous azalea, and she brought me a little offspring of that magnificent bush. I never expected it to thrive, but it has been flowering now for six years since Trudy died, bringing her back to me each spring in pinkish lavender blooms.
Trudy’s Conway Road azalea 
Trudy’s Bronze Fox Farm azalea
And speaking of gardening, Rebecca came to help again today. Mascotti is doing well. It seems the abscess has opened, as he is walking more comfortably now. Soaking and wrapping continues, of course, but it is good to know he is much less lame. Rebecca wore a hat, so the horses couldn’t see her beautiful gray hair and mistake it for a Guinea hen. That was a moot issue, though. The weather was so warm that we are switching to night turnout, so the horses were in stalls today. I turned them out this morning, but before long, they ran to the shed to escape flies, so I brought them inside. How quickly Missouri weather changes! A week ago we were under freeze warnings, and now it’s hot, and miserable with flies.
I dropped some mail in the box this morning, and saw Jane’s Gus keeping watch over Winford Farm.
Riding was miserable in the wind, the worst of conditions, if you ask me. It’s good for drying the ground, but most unpleasant on horseback.
Cora spent the night up in the loft. My hand is damaged from the last time I rescued her, when she panicked and scratched me badly, so I had no sympathy. I am pleased to report she found her way down sometime today. Here she is atop a stall, on her way to ground level, giving me the stink eye for my disregard to her pleas for help.
Marmalade is becoming the sweetest of the cats. And Licorice is the least demanding cat in history.
Finally, Harry filled the house with beautiful piano music at the end of the day. Full Pink Moon tonight, sweet dreams to all!
Kafka and H.L. Mencken as audience
Stay safe, stay well. Peace.
There was a pair of catbirds who nested in the huge mock-orange shrubs around my porch in Fulton. I loved hearing them speak to each other with many voices. Cool birds.
Go Harry Go!
Your comments made me think of my parents’ beautiful and lush pink and orange azaleas in front of their home in Farmington.
Being natives of upper Michigan, my mom and dad were enchanted by those “Southern beauties.”
Yeah to Marmalade! What a transition!!