It’s hard to believe that it’s the end of August. The summer has passed by swiftly. And we’ve had cooler temperatures than we normally have.
Typically August is so hot it’s miserable. In every August that I can recall when you walked outdoors you met up with a steam bath.
But this year, not so much.
I spoke to Andrew on the phone last night. I wanted to know how he likes school. Pre-K, I think they call it.
I wasn’t too surprised to learn that riding the bus seems to be one of the biggest highlights. It takes him from his daycare, which is where he goes while his mom is at work, back and forth to Pre-K.
Andrew is more of a “yes and no” little guy. He doesn’t elaborate much. So I didn’t find out much else.
I recall when my daughters were four years old, and you could rarely shut them up. They talked and they talked about what going to school was like. And about most everything else that entered their heads.
But little boys, I’m finding, just aren’t as loquacious.
Little boys run and jump and play hard. Little girls, or at least mine, chattered and played with Barbie dolls. And of course Barbie had quite a lot to say to Ken.
I heard the ducks quacking and got out on the patio in time to see them flying overhead. (This is when a zoom lens comes in mighty handy!)
I don’t know if they were the resident ducks or just relatives quacking their greetings as they flew over the apartment complex.
Here is the purslane growing out of the cement with a yellow flower peeking out from underneath the green sweet potato vine.
I’ve noticed that the dragonflies are not as abundant as they were last week. Now the grasshoppers have come to town.
This week I haven’t caught a glimpse of the hummingbirds that I have yet to get a photo of. Darn it.
Such gorgeous creatures and I’m frustrated that I can’t get even one photo.
Charlie is still doing well. I’m trying not to be gone much more than I have to. I don’t want him getting too stressed.
It is hard to say goodbye to him as I’m going out the door with “I’ll be back before you know it, Charlie Boy” and have those huge brown eyes beseeching me not to go.
Today I’m having lunch with my daughter. I figure an hour and I will be back home with him. Then we’ll have our typical quiet weekend.
I’m currently reading “Sold On A Monday.”
2 CHILDREN FOR SALE
The sign is a last resort. It sits on a farmhouse porch in 1931, but could be found anywhere in an era of breadlines, bank runs, and broken dreams. It could have been written by any mother facing impossible choices.
For struggling reporter Ellis Reed, the gut-wrenching scene evokes memories of his family’s dark past. He snaps a photograph of the children, not meant for publication. But when it leads to his big break, the consequences are more devastating than he ever imagined.
At the paper, Lillian Palmer is haunted by her role in all that happened. She is far too familiar with the heartbreak of children deemed unwanted. As the bonds of motherhood are tested, she and Ellis must decide how much they are willing to risk to mend a fractured family.
Inspired by an actual newspaper photograph that stunned the nation, “Sold on a Monday” is a powerful novel of love, redemption, and the unexpected paths that bring us home.