- There was no school yesterday, so the kids and I spent a blustery morning at the nearby public garden, where I did not covet my neighbor's maidservant nor his cattle, but I did covet this:
Aren't they beautiful? That downspout goes directly on top of the rain barrel! And those handy, well-off-the-ground spigots? Swoon.
We're big on water conservation in the first place; for all that I plant, I water very little, usually just our front container plantings, and part of my end-of-the-day routine is to go around and gather all the cups in the kitchen and dumping the leftover water into a pitcher to help water those front flowers (I just couldn't stand to pour another of those half-full cups down the drain every night, and I try not to do it when anyone's sick), but a rain barrel has long been on my Want list. We get so much rain here, it really does feel wasteful not to utilize as much of it as possible. Anyone have any recommendations on rain barrels? What to avoid, what has worked for you, etc?
- I saw this butterfly in the butterfly house:
It was huge and beautiful-ugly and as such reminded me of the huge, beautiful-ugly orange-white-and-black sofa set my best friend's parents had in their front room throughout our growing up years. I don't know how many times I collapsed on that couch and loveseat after hours of through-the-night choreography sessions (basically what our sleepovers consisted of). You never know when nostalgia is going to strike, do you?
- We took a ride on an old train over the weekend, and, because it was an out-and-back route (I'm so sorry, I just can't seem to keep myself from over-hyphenating today, not to be confused with over-caffeinating, which I am also doing today. Perhaps the two are connected? I usually get very, very angry when people insist on finding causal relationships between two things that are tenuously connected at best, but I think in this one I'll give myself a pass. For this post, at least, we'll say over-caffeinating causes over-hyphenating. Except it doesn't.)...
Where was I?
|Pretty. Deadly. Pretty deadly.|
Oh, yes. It was an out-and-back route, which means we had to go over a tall, tall, FAR FAR FAR off the ground bridge, on an old, antique train. Have I mentioned my terror of bridges? How much I hate them, especially when they go over water? Have I mentioned that it's worse when you're on a rickety train on a rickety track? (Right, so it may not have been that rickety; I'm sure it's all in good repair, but the only trains I've ridden have been subways and the trains from Connecticut into New York and back, and they are an entirely different animal.)
The worst part was, while still traversing the bridge, a good portion of the large family in front of us all rushed to one side of the car to see the view out those windows and I was like, "LET'S PLAY A LITTLE GAME CALLED "DON'T UPSET THE TRAIN CAR!" WINNER DOESN'T GO PLUNGING TO THEIR DEATH FAR BELOW!"
Atticus, at least, felt my pain.
|The Smart One|
|Everyone turned black-and-white immediately upon entering the old-fashioned train cars. Or I applied an "Inkwell" filter to this photo in Instagram. Pick your poison.|
I'm sure Adelaide had an equally adorable expression on her face during the ride, but I'm afraid I didn't capture that, as I was busy praying for the survival of everyone on board, even the would-be train-tippers. You're welcome, fellow passengers.