"Sailing, sailing over the bounding main. . . ." In this case, the bounding main is a dinner plate standing tall in the front yard.  It didn't seem to mind the rain. Happy Monday to you!

Molly has asked that I tell you about her satisfying and satisfactory Sunday morning, and before breakfast, too. Molly and I were deadheading daisies in the front yard. Molly is the supervisor, in case you're wondering. About 20 minutes into clipping soggy dried daisy heads (we had rain—yay!) I glanced up to see Molly sitting with her body tensely taut and intently watching the flamingo. From my angle, Molly and the faded artificial bird seemed to be in a stare down. Five minutes later, I noticed that Molly had moved halfway closer to Albert. That's the flamingo's name I've decided. Three minutes ticked by: Molly was in stealth hunter's mode. She quickly and quietly tiptoed around me and crept into the bushes to (no doubt) ambush Albert from behind. I wonder who was surprised more—Albert or Molly. That was not the end to Molly satisfactory morning adventure. No m'ams and sirs. Ten minutes later, I was planting tiny daisy branches (in hopes they'll grow

The Mama loved her flowers. Every time she trimmed her flowers, she planted many of the trimmings directly into the soil elsewhere. And, they grew. I'm hoping that will happen for me, too.  Here's what her daisies, geraniums, and rosemary in the front of the house looked like this afternoon. Oh, Happy Spring!

I believe cats to be spirits come to earth. A cat, I am sure, could walk on a cloud without coming through. ~ Jules Verne   Hanging out at Skywatch Friday . Come join me by clicking here . Thanks, Skywatch Friday hosts!

Finally! The winter rain has come to our part of the world. It began last night. A steady pitter patter, pitter patter on the roof and a swoosh and splash in the streets. Molly the Cat and I celebrated this morning by wandering around the front yard. Actually, it was more like Molly doing her best to shepherd me back into the house. At one point, Molly sat on the doorstep looking like she was sighing at my silliness of deadheading wet daisies. If she could, I'm sure she would've folded her "arms" over her chest and tapped one paw in a "come on, come inside, get out of the rain" staccato beat. Excuse me now as I imagine Molly's tappingness turning into her tapdancing and splashing in the rain like Gene Kelly. Hmmm, Molly has a voice quite like Debbie Reynolds, "I'm singing in the rain. . . ."