Frogs

 

 When I was in 6th grade, each one of us made a presentation about a subject that was of interest to us. Ray Woodward, sat in back of me in class, and I never thought much of him until he made his presentation. He told us about his uncle, who was lost in the Hindenburg disaster, and even though it made a strong presentation, what I remember most is the poem he chose to share with us. I never forgot the poem, and here it is:

What a wonderful bird the frog are.

When he stand he sit almost.

When he hop he fly almost.

He ain't got no sense.

He ain't got no tail hardly either.

When he sit, he sit on what he ain't got almost. 

Before the Deluge

We are fixin' to have another round of rain like last week, and before the rain dampens all the blooming flowers, especially the Azaleas, I found myself taking photos of some of the most beautiful flowers around town. Ah, the Azaleas. They are always the most beautiful. If you ever get a chance to visit Natchez, you will find that the Azalea blooms there are as big as your hand. It's a special place. Raymond isn't far behind.

                                     This photo was taken at Martha Ferguson's mother's house.

                       This photos was taken at Mickey and Ed Bearden's house, who are my neighbors.

              This is a photo of Mr. Charlie's flowers at the Baptist church. He has magic in his hands.

                 This is a photo of Martha and Charles Robinson's Verbina in their raised flower bed.

Rain

          Just yesterday, the Kale was bolting and it looked like spring had finally arrived.

                  The massive flocks of Black Birds were breaking up into smaller groups.

               Today, it just keeps raining and raining. There is no place for the water to go.

If I were still living in California, the power would have gone out hours ago with such storms. We seldom lose power here in Mississippi.