I remember the first time I saw Game of Thrones. People had been talking about it online for a while, and I finally ordered the first disc from Netflix. I was living in St. Paul then, and I’m pretty sure it was winter. It’s always winter there, or so it seems.
With the very first scenes, I was hooked. The cinematography was exceptional, and it didn’t take me long to realize they weren’t pulling punches when it came to the harsh things in that reality. I don’t want to spoil it for anyone who hasn’t seen this series yet, but what happened to Bran made me gasp in horror.
Oh, boy! This is gonna be good! I thought. I told R about it, and because my recommendations have usually been solid, he started watching it too.
I caught up with the series, and when I moved to Florida, R and I set up a standing date for Sunday evening in front of the TV to watch GofT.
–SPOILERS– Continue reading
This one was taken last year at Dan’s Nursery. He’s ninety or something and still active. Peacocks roam the place freely. This one has lost his tail feathers–it was November, and they drop them in the fall–but he’s still beautiful. Peacock colors are so vivid!
“I’m going nuts!” Sean yelled, banging on the window. “This is the twenty-fifth day of rain in a row.” Throwing his head back, he howled.
I calmly tapped the Kindle to move to the next page in my book. “So? It’s not like you’ll melt.” I looked up. “Unless you’re descended from the Wicked Witch of the East? Which would be cool, just sayin’. Think of the fun we’d have sending the flying monkeys after the neighbors.”
Scowling, he dropped to the couch and bent to retrieve his shoes. “My sneaks haven’t been dry in weeks.”
“Wear your cowboy boots then.”
“You know I can’t. He likes to lick them.” He tied one set of laces, then the other. “I swear he has a leather fetish.” He popped to his feet, resigned to getting wet. “Coming?” Continue reading
I have a variety for you today, taken over the last two or three weeks.
Let’s start with a dragonfly. No matter how often I see them, I always want to take photos. Continue reading
“Are you warm enough?” he asked.
“No, but that doesn’t matter.” Nestled in a cocoon of blankets, she looked up through the clear roof of the little gondola in which they sat and saw the gaudy but beautiful balloon keeping them aloft. Its twin on the other side could not be seen unless she tilted her head back so far, it hurt. A propeller at the rear provided forward momentum.
It was a wonderful device, and though she’d begged him for rides over and over, it wasn’t until she’d become ill that he relented.
Ill. An innocuous word–three letters, one syllable–that didn’t go far enough to describe the state she was in. She was dying, and they both knew it. What a shame that’s what it had taken for him to finally invite her on-board. Continue reading