A 'pritty-good' day; It truly WAS a 'pritty-good' day.

Today the forecast for temperature is 66. I shall go for a walk this morning.

James Joyce, the writer, was born on this day. He was a genius at writing, and was also so afraid of thunderstorms and lightning, that he would get under the covers or under his bed. I would like to read some of his works. I don't care if he was scared of thunderstorms. I know he was a good writer.

I'm back... What a wonderful walk that was, a whole half-hour, with conversations with several doggies, from across the street, of course. There is one dog who is a vigilant guard, even though he is rather small. I was about three or four houses away from where he lives, and he began his warning to his master. Of course, I responded with my usual "Hi, Doggie! Hi, Doggie!" to let him know I wasn't looking for trouble. I would call out to him and he would change the tone of his bark, which pleased me. I like to let the dogs know that I am just taking a little walk to enjoy the beautiful air, and I tell them "You're a good doggie!" And I like to let them know that I appreciate their fine work at their jobs.

I found another penny on the sidewalk. I always pick them up; you know that old saying: See a penny, pick it up, All the day, you'll have good luck!" A penny does have value; if you have ninety-nine cents, you don't have a dollar. Add one, and there you have it! A DOLLAR!

I think it's spring already in my neighborhood, I've seen a few robins for the past few days. One today was quite near me as I walked in his area. He was so busy digging for worms in the storm-moistened little depression in the lawn, that he didn't see me at first. When he spotted me, he quickly hopped away, but I began to speak to him, and he stopped and listened. Not a one response, though. I walked on.

It was so lovely outdoors, such a beautiful azure sky, no clouds in sight, just a slight breeze, perfect temperature for walking. Aah!

I went to bed late last night, working on the computer. I woke up late, just before eight ... Oh, that's the beginning of a poem ... and I've been having so much fun so far. I'd better stop right here and get to work - there are some chores to be done.




I'll see you at the Corner Post...