March, march, march to my own drum. A congo drum, please.
It's a gorgeous California no-rain-in-sight early Spring (late Winter, if you prefer) day. I would be playing outdoors in the dirt right now if I hadn't wrenched my good knee on Friday. Maybe wrenched isn't the correct word, but the pain certainly matches the word.
I stepped sideways on uneven ground in the front yard to show the Husband something when my left knee buckled. A chicken leg being snapped at its joint flashed through my head. I am very glad to report that my sense of decorum and appropriate behavior are still intact: I did not scream out in pain nor utter a curse word for the whole street to hear. Indoors, another story.
Before that all happened, I was playing in the yard, deadheading, raking, trimming, planting, and doing all kinds of fun things. At one point, a robin flew into the ornamental pear tree and we had a pleasant time hanging out. The robin even let the Husband join us. We wondered whether he was part of the robin family that comes back every Spring. Tweet, tweet.
It's time for Mosaic Monday. Come check out other bloggers with me, if you please.