A Beckoning

My Chair is ready.

All week my garden has had that come hither look about her. I can feel her calling me, begging me to come out and play. But the rules state that I have to finish my homework before I can come out.

Soon, my darling, soon.

Here is a lovely picture of my favorite chair, freshened up now with a shade of purple. Why purple?

Why you know already. The eccentricity that befalls every woman in about her fifth decade. She's running hot and cold. Fists balled in fury or arms open wide to hug everyone. It's a messy mix of love and rage and purple is a color for both. The Putterer