At the River

"The face of the water, in time, became a wonderful book.... And it was not a book to be read once and thrown aside, for it had a new story to tell every day.

--Mark Twain, Life on the Mississippi

Every once in a while it strikes me—I live near one of the great rivers of the world. 

The Mississippi winds through the city—I live near where it dog legs, so from different directions I’m only a mile or three from the river.

Today I’m walking along the river paths downtown. 

Well, I’m sitting on a log actually. It’s sunny and 30ish degrees F = warm for us, but my fingers are clumsy typing on my phone in the cold. It’s  cheering to be here—today the river recommends moseying.

This morning I took the light rail train to the downtown post office. There’s almost nothing else open downtown on the weekends (or weekdays either), So the train is pretty empty, and, most unusually, especially this close to Christmas, there was NO line at the PO.

Which was great because I’d ordered stamps online two weeks ago—to mail Xmas cards—and they still haven’t arrived.  

They’re moseying, I guess. 

Decorative iron grate around a tree  

Speaking of poppies, this set of “Wild Poppy Yellow” dishes made in California 1972– came in the store a few days ago. Set of 8 sold for $60, which is good for our distinctly not-hipster thrift store. 

 

A new coworker sewed me a mask with bears! I wear the cap to hold back my hair—it’s in that awkward stage—too short for a ponytail, too long to stay out of my face.