My irises are blooming today. These irises used to be my mother's irises. Before that they were my Grandfather's irises. When I see these big beauties in my yard I remember my Grandfather's whistle. When he was feeling good he would whistle. He whistled hymns most of the time and he had the ability to whistle in and whistle out. He could whistle a hymn without stopping for breath. I, too, whistle when I am feeling good but I seldom whistle hymns. I whistle rock and roll songs, classical music, and the odd television jingle.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
The Best American Short Stories 2013
Elizabeth Strout is the editor of The Best American Short Stories 2013 . One of the stories, written by Junot Diaz, is one I had read befor...
-
A yellow rail, one of THE MOST ELUSIVE birds around, sound like a manual typewriter. And if you're too young to know what a manual ty...
-
I received a gift from Offspring #1 - a collection of lectures on compact disk about Medieval Heroines in History and Legend. The speaker is...
-
Today I was home quite a bit and saw a plethora of birds in my yard including two "first of the year" birds at opposite ends of...

No comments:
Post a Comment