Lean not unto your own misunderstanding...

Wear a mask.

Reading, Undertaker's Daughter by Kate Mayfiled

 This was an interesting book.  Her father was an undertaker in a small town in the south 1950 to about 1970.  The family lived in the second floor of the funeral home.  I learned more than I really ever wanted to know about the workings of taking care of dead bodies, but still it was interesting.

The poem below was in the front of the book.

To Be Sure

I wouldn't want to bring him back

from his permanent interment

even if I could

but I wouldn't mind a visit now and then,

a trip down

to keep each other company.

I could push back the top of the concrete liner,

pull up the half lid of the quite tasteful furniture

that is now his home

and fill him in

on the news of the business and my life

since he's been gone.

He's easier to talk to now

and I miss him

more than I thought I would,

more than I thought I could.

Always expected his going

would set me free

and now I am

surprised really

that his new silence

and contained grace

leave me finally free

to love him and to grieve.

By Larry Sorkin

Even the weather

Is fake news. It says 100 percent chance of rain today. There is hardly a cloud in the sky and not a drop of rain all day.  Tomorrow says the same. We will see.

Maybe wild sweet potato vine?

Or small morning Glory. The leaves say either. The stem or vine is dark, so more likely sweet potato. 

Today I found some with white blooms, but the vine us not as dark colored.  The blooms are about 1/4 inch wide and about an inch long.

Today is a sweet potato day.