I've seen a few blogs mentioning taking a picture of a tree from the same spot in every month of the year. As I don't really go anywhere, I was stumped, but then I thought of the tree where we feed the crows.
It's not a very good pic, though, so I'll perhaps go back in the week. I'll be taking a pic probably most weeks as there is a wild rose that climbs up it which is gorgeous but has a short season, and, as it's a hawthorn, there's plenty of blossoms and berries over the year.
In fact, today has been mostly knitting.
I did all of the blue stripe today as well as a chunk of the orange. It's been incredibly relaxing.
Reading Hard Up Hester's mention that her husband wouldn't eat onions reminded me that my late grandmother had to put up with a lot. My grandfather insisted that he liked the flavour of onions but he wouldn't actually eat any. Any time that there was a stew or casserole, my grandmother had to put the onion in whole so that my grandfather could have the flavour without it actually passing his lips. When my grandmother died, my uncle took over the cooking and ignored my grandfather's preference and just cut the onion very fine. My grandfather didn't say a word and we suspect that he never noticed, or potentially had forgotten that he didn't like onion. It was entirely possible.
Every now and then, I'll share a story like the onion, or the great uncle wearing sweaters backwards, or any of a dozen other anecdotes and bear and DH will look at me with concern and try and work out why. There is never a why. It's all just as random as it sounds.
Hugs and good health to all.
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