|When supper is over we get to march around the table.|
“Have you eaten yet? If not, I’ll bring supper over in 45 minutes. Lentils and rice.”
Richard called out, the message tumbling over his porch rail and reaching me just as I was settling into one of the patio deck chairs.
Thomas asked me if I knew which bird was singing each sound. I don’t try to tell the difference now that I know the magpie can mimic twenty bird calls.
All of the birds I hear are going to be magpies playing the part of trickster, that is unless I have my birding glasses in hand and can see the eye rings or the bars on wings.
|I get the umbella hat my mom bought at Wicked|
On the inside of the umbreall is a line that says,
"Be careful you don't get wet, my dear"
I dozed in and out of sleep and soon I could feel a few drops of rain on my arms.
Richard called out the door, “Ready?”
“Yes, I am just running inside to get the umbrellas.”
Michael was walking around the glass table, simultaneously putting out cutlery and naming the chairs of where people were to sit.
He was also picking out the best pink umbrella. I was helping Alice open an “I love London” umbrella.
Their parents were urging them to hold the umbrellas high with one hand and to eat quickly with the other. There was no third hand left to steady the plates which were now sliding into the puddles of rain on the table.
We took a group pause and listened to the rain on the tops of our umbrellas. Louder and louder. By now Michael had discovered that with one sweep of the hand a wave of water can leave the table top and ribbon-like, descend to the cement. Michael was also squealing and ducking his head because the top of his umbrella was catching stray hairs of his crew cut.
“Just hold the umbrella higher. No pulling it down to duck under it. Lift it high and you will have a large space where you are protected from the rain. Even better, climb under the table – two tables, one supersized umbrella. Go, Michael, go.
One of these things is not like the other
One of these things just doesn't belong
|"I'm not coming out if it is raining."|
“If we don’t go in soon, this steamed rice for tomorrow will be rice soup,” Richard called out to us, gathering up the first of three loads of dirty dishes that he was running back to his house.
I headed to a hot shower at my house, searching for a dry place to lay out 6 soaking umbrellas.