I had a fantastic line to write to you today. The words came to me while I was eating dinner cooked by one of the volunteers surrounded by chattering and laughing young people. It was a sublime collection of words that encapsulated my day. So I tore off a little strip of paper towel from under the croquetas and wrote those amazing perfectly composed poetic words on the paper. But it was so hot that later I turned the fan on and it blew the table clean and now your words are gone. 
Kind of like when you are really mad at someone or disappointed or something and all you do is stammer and go red, then after all the people have left you suddenly have exactly the words ready, your rebuttal is generous but cutting. Perfect. But you can only say it to yourself because the moment and all the people are are gone. Kind of like that but the opposite. So not much like that at all I suppose. 
But you know what I mean.
I am considering crawling around the floor looking for my little piece of paper towel corner with my perfect thought folded inside but I am not going to.
It can stay on yesterdays floor.
Another of my volunteers has elected to learn how to milk Lady Astor the house cow and this week she is ready to take over. She has begun her studies to become a vet so we decided that she could get even more involved with the animals than usual. Lady Astor stands quite still except for that last well aimed kick to the cups when she is finished and so far all has gone well.
I have a tremendous crew at the moment.
Poor Mr Flowers.
I hope you have a lovely day.
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
39 responses to “A scrap of paper”
I know that feeling well…but I have now reached a good advanced age when I say what I feel, when I want to say it…I seem to have forgotten that maybe a bit of decorum should be in place..the words just come out..plonk! Like it or lump it..there they are….
lots of love
Sent: Tuesday, June 14, 2016 at 1:03 PM
The bird with a thousand eyes! The National Bird of India…In Hinduism, the image of the god of thunder, rains and war, Indra, was depicted in the form of a peacock. In south India, peacock is considered as a vehicle of lord Muruga–surprisingly they live in the wild there and domesticated. You have a Lord Muruga living with you. 🙂
Linda
I keep wondering if those white plumes on Mr. Flowers’ tail have any bit of iridescence to them. We used to carry the usual lovey peacock plumes when I had the store and they sold well, but none of the suppliers carried white plumes (we were asked for them occasionally). Mr. Flowers is certainly a handsome fellow, hard to compete with a mirror however.
I must agree with Patrecia, I don’t manage to control what I say very well either – perils of being of a “certain” age. I’ve come to appreciate the bluntness, saves so much fussing around to no purpose. Have a lovely day.
That happens to me more often than not…I hope you stumble upon the words when you need them the most, it would be fitting. I’m happy that you have such a lovely crew, the help must be welcome.
I write my best poetry while walking, with both hands occupied on my sticks. I get home and the words, like yours, have gone, never to return.
Love,
ViV xox
What at tremendous shot of Mr. Flowers – with a Geraldine in the back still asking Mirror, Mirror on the Wall… Strange, isn’t it? Or is she watching him through the mirror? Clandestinely, secretly?
Maybe!! c
I’ve said plenty of generous things and I’m sure I’ve said plenty of cutting things as well, but I don’t think I’ve ever managed both at the same time! LOL
my best ideas hit during the night. Instead of getting up and putting on the light and writing them down, I say the words out loud, thinking this will help me remember them. But they don’t. It doesn’t pay to be lazy.
I love Mr. Flowers’ decorative hem–like a senorita’s skirt.
You won’t find the piece of fly-away paper ’cause it has already landed in each and every one of our homes saying what needed to be said . . . many individual keepsakes sent by your Illinois winds . . .
“It can stay on yesterdays floor.”
While looking for a scrap you found the best line ever. (maybe that was the purpose all along? HA HA)
Mr. Flowers has a magnificent display! No wonder Geraldine wants to look her best. She is a beauty.