I’m cooking a pot roast in the crock pot. The apartment is filled with the aroma.
It tastes better if I take it out of the crock pot, and then put it in the Breville for an hour. That somehow makes it more tender.
That and some veggies and iced tea will taste good tonight at supper.
The geranium plant is so elegant. At first the blooms bow down, as though at the end of a play or performance.
Then suddenly in a day or so I’ll look again, and they will have turned the blooms to face the sun.
I am not an artist. I can’t draw worth a darn, or paint landscapes. But I can create a garden.
He sits out here to remind me to pause and relax. To sit down and gaze out at the patio and the gardens I’ve created.
And to be thankful for what I have.