I'm old. Old. Old. Old. Old. Old. Well, we're both hold. The Husband and me. Oh, he won't like me saying that. But, it is true. We are old. Yet. Yesterday, we pedaled our cruiser bicycles against that defiant wind for several miles to buy three pounds of freshly-picked locally grown, sun-kissed cherries. Very yummy cherries indeed. Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining about getting older. As wise folks say, "What's the use of complaining?" I'm just stating the fact today to myself, and you happen to be in on it. Still, no matter how old I am, the Mama is older. As many of you know, nothing is going to stop her from doing what she wants to do.  Example: The back yard that is her jungle of a vegetable garden. The better description is the mad scientist's horticultural sandbox. Any day, I expect her to tell me that she tore out all the bean plants and sown new seeds. Why? Because she can't stand that the plants are producing

I still can't sew straight lines, but what does it matter. The bigger point is to attempt and to accomplish. And you betcha big time, I so did! I finished Molly's bridle this morning. Once Molly is used to having it on her, I'll post a photo of her sporting it. Whoo-hoo! I also sewed a  reversible patchwork apron for a birthday gift, which the Husband is kindly holding up for me in the photos below.  Took me all of six hours, using my minimal sewing skills and following very basic instructions as well as my whim and fancy.   It's the second apron I made. The first patchwork one. I like to do patchwork. That takes center stage rather than the flaws. But, what's life without flaws, eh.  I didn't realize the chicken panel was off until I was all done. It adds to the perfection of its imperfection. See, on the other side, you can't even tell the hem is crooked.

There are always two sides to a story, right? Here's one tale for you from the Mama's Garden. One Side:   The Other Side: I like both sides to the evolving summer garden story.

© 2012 Su-sieee! Mac. All rights reserved.

"Outside, please," says Molly the Cat When we adopted Molly the Cat a few months ago, we were told that she had always been an indoors cat. Only once in her life did she ever live outside. Molly's previous adoptive humans had taken in Molly and her brother who had special needs. The humans didn't understand what that meant because after a few weeks, they tired of cleaning up after the brother and dumped both Molly and him outside. Poor babies. We were upfront with Molly's foster human. We wanted Molly to explore the outdoors when she was ready and if she wanted to do so. Within a lot of reason, of course. Never the front yard unless she was on a leash. And, only in the backyard if the Mama was agreeable to Molly wandering around her flower and vegetable plots. No problem there. So, when Molly the Cat somehow got out of the front window a while back , we decided to give her the chance to wander around the backyard. Supervised, that is. "Micro-m

As the lemon snapped off, the robin flew from the slightly bouncing bough bowing heavy with lemons. (How's that for purple prose?) The red-breasted bird landed on the fence and scolded me. "Excuse me," I said, and continued gathering lemons for lemonade. Several days later, Molly the Cat and I were wandering near the lemon tree. Two robins swooped by and landed on the neighbor's roof. The bigger bird stared at me, as if saying, "Out! Now! Please." I understood immediately. "Come on Molly, let's go inside. These guys have a nest in the lemon tree." As you can tell from the photos, the robins hid their nest quite nicely. At first, I thought it was precariously situated on the limb, but, hey, if nobody picks the lemons, it's safe. And, that is what has happened, which is too bad since there are some nice-looking lemons on that branch. The mama and papa robins have been taking turns sitting on their babies. I wonder if they like

"Take a photo of the pink roses before I clip them," said the Mama, as I was cleaning Molly the Cat's litter box. She—the Mama—rarely asks me to take a picture of anything, especially of her works of wonder. "Take it so you can see the apple tree," the Mama said, showing with her hands the angle she wanted me to shoot the photo. She was sitting in the living room. I love it when the Mama gets artistic on me. That, too, is rare these days. That is, except for her gardening.  The Mama is one of those people with a green thumb. She can clip a rose branch, stick it in the ground, and most of the time it grows into yet another beautiful rose bush. The rose bush in the photo was once upon a time a small pot of roses that was bought at a grocery store. I don't remember how long ago, but I do recall she didn't really care for that kind of rose at the time. But, the Mama being Mama, rarely throws a gift plant away. By the way, that is not the apple