the curb

It is Wednesday morning and trash day. I stumbled out of bed early this morning to get the cans to the curb. Halfway down the driveway I patted my leg and looked down to make sure I was wearing something appropriate, like pants, while I was outside in the foggy darkness. Trash can to the right of the mailbox in the little dead-grass space. Back up the short hill and down again with the recycling and it is rolled in place a few feet to the left of the mailbox. A third trip brings the yard waste next to the recycling. There is not much in the enormous green, plastic bin but I know that what is in there - rotting food and binging bugs - needs to go.
Pete fixed a restaurant's ventilation system all night and fell into bed while I showered. I have been passing the time until Zoe is awake by trying to do things very, very quietly. Doing something without making a noise takes so much concentration and energy it wears me out.
Today we will go to the YMCA and maybe take a walk outside if the rain holds out. It is one of those times of the year when it feels like there is so much to be done but wouldn't it be nice to hibernate under a warm blanket instead?

goodbye Montana

I've driven through but never stayed. Well, actually, maybe I did stay there overnight once on a drive from KC to Seattle.

A friend of mine has a space of her own in Montana and she speaks of it with such love. Each time she leaves it is with a heavy heart.

Perhaps someday I will have a place of my own that is so special it hurts to walk out the door.

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my hydrangeas