Another hawk flew across the roadway about a mile further along, close enough to see feathers.
And then my own Cooper’s, looping through the foot of the L in the patio here this evening, blue in flight in the lowering sun. It was definitely an add-hawk committee day.
And to top it off I have concocted my first lined hat: it is blocking and I am dancingly pleased beyond all reason.
The splints last about four or five years. It suddenly occurs to me, having never had any option but white before, that “when I am old I shall wear purple” in my sleep. Line them with loose old cotton socks with the heel and toe cut out, and there you go. Usually they only go up to the middle joints of my fingers; with these longer-handed ones, we’re trying something new, and I report back to Lori Stotko, a physical therapist specializing in musicians’ issues in her day job, next week. We may yet shorten the tops.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve almost, almost asked my ward’s chat list if anyone had such socks with holes they were throwing away that I could put to good use. Can you just picture the potential mountain of singletons…!
Meantime, this is Parker trying to take after me: I pulled the drawers out and climbed a dresser when I was just barely old enough to remember it.
I think he’s just trying to rummage up some old socks there for me. Go Parker!