This morning, there were flowers! Not lots, but in spite of the wind, there were enough still intact at 9 o’clock that I captured a few usable flower photographs.
Also took pictures of clouds to the northwest of us, which part of the sky was previously obscured by the tree that was taken down, last week. The forecast high for yesterday was at first 90°F, but ended up at 88°. Yesterday’s forecast high for today was 94°, which was lowered by 4 degrees. I am hopeful. And I would welcome a warm rain just at sunset. As it is, the day where we are is sunny. Later on, there will be shadows from the cotoneasters to allow for sitting outside of the gazebo.
Last night I backed up the photography archives twice, two separate external HDs. The next time that I have some money collected, I plan to get a couple of dedicated off-site storage drives and trade them off to the safe deposit box every week. Probably on Wednesdays, when we usually stop at the butcher’s shop.
I am devoting some time to visiting blogs that I have not gotten to over the past month or so. And also, I hope to write a poem or two before the clock moves into another day.
We did get up in time to go to the folks’ place, and then go together to the elementary school just across the school playground, which begins on the other side of the street from our house, to the east. I took some snapshots, and to our surprise, one of the local radio/TV stations ran a short piece also on Father’s receiving the medals for his WW II service in the Army. (They have his age wrong, and also, I expect, how many years after the war/how late he has received them.) I noted in the article/video that my father stated, he did not care to be interviewed.
Ready to head home, wearing his medals
Father, shaking hands after the presentation ceremony.
My father, my husband, and one of my brothers
It was nice to see everyone again. I ran into some family friends and some folks with whom I attended school in the home town.
Since I had my camera along, I took time to take some photographs of the main upstairs living area while it still is as I remember it. I believe I was in sixth or seventh grade before Mother drew up house plans for the upper part of the house; for the first years, we lived in a “basement house” with a large, green door and wooden walkway and hand railings with steps leading to it. Somewhere I have a photograph of me and Mother, herself with a snow shovel in hand and both of us dressed for winter, clearing the way of mounds of snowdrifts.