Tilda-Hilda and I didn't go out yesterday. Too much to do. By mid-afternoon, I stopped stressing myself about not going out for a ride. I was moving around a lot, which I told myself was what counted. This morning, Tilda-Hilda and I pedaled up and down the hills for 34 minutes. Pretty good for us. See you tomorrow.

My ABC Wednesday theme: The Mama and Her Authentic Green Thumbs. . .and Fingers Today, I'm showing you photos of the Mama's tomato plants.  She has one huge tomato plant growing in her squash patch. That's it in the above photo. She says the plant has two tiny fruits. The Mama has four tomato patches in various parts of the yard. The tomatoes all started as seedlings in this box. In other words, these are the plants that did not get transplanted else where. All the patches of transplants are quite healthy. Here's one of the patches. Then, there's my tomato plant. This was supposed to be a pot of milkweed for the monarchs. Ha! A week ago, the wind blew the tomato plant's container on its side breaking off the branch. The Mama, fortunately, came along and stuck the branch back into the pot. The tomato plant just might make it. It's ABC Wednesday . That's where I'm linking up today. Click here to check out other participants wit

This morning, I put on my orange tee-shirt, grey yoga pants, mismatched socks, orange Converse shoes, and red fingerless gloves, which I topped with my old don't-mess-with-me (in my mind) orange jacket. Tilda-Hilda was happy to see me again. Today made two days in a row for Tilda-Hilda and me. Twenty-minute rides, more or less. I puffed and gasped as I went up slopes and whoo-hoo 'd with glee as I coasted down them. My knee twinged a couple of times, but not enough for me to turn back home. And, when I pedaled across an open field, I recalled again what I like about riding bicycles and was ready to take on another hill. I haven't pedaled Tidla-Hilda since the beginning of the year. A friend asked me why not? Simple. I got lazy, which meant I lost all my muscle tone and gained back nearly all the weight I lost. Five months of laziness is enough. Tomorrow morning Tilda-Hilda and I will go out for a bit longer of a ride. Slowly and surely, we'll get back to taking t

Memorial Day by Helen Leah Reed (From Memorial Day and Other Verse , 1917)         No warrior he, a village lad,                 needing nor words nor other prod         To point his duty; he was glad                 to tread the path his fathers trod.         Week days he worked in wood and field;                 with homely joys he decked his life;         The sword of hate he would not wield,                 nor take a part in cankering strife.         On Sunday in the little choir                 he sang of Peace and brotherly love,         And as his thoughts soared higher and higher,                 they reached unmeasured heights above.         A cry for Freedom rent the Land -                 "Our Country calls, come, come, 'tis War;         Together let us firmly stand;"                 he answered, though his heart beat sore         At leaving home, and kin, and one                 in whose fond eyes too late he read         That lif

"Someone ate all the bean sprouts," the Mama said in April. "The birds ate them," I suggested. The Mama looked at me like "Yeah, right." The other day I was in the garden with Molly the Cat. I learned something new about Molly. She likes the taste of bean leaves. Purrrrrrrrr.