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Two Choices

I've got two choices in front of me---doing all the stacked up dishes in the kitchen from our guests last evening, or writing. Which is more fun? Writing it is....

Sunday's market was better than expected, what with it being the weekend of both, the
Bay Hill golf tournament, and the Winter Park Sidewalk Art Festival, two of the biggest events of the year. Spurts of big crowds happened every now and again, but more importantly, the Canadian woman I was talking to when I fell ill came to see me. Meet Linda! And, wouldn't you know it, I screwed up her photo!
Looking at it just now I recall she wasn't going to look at the camera, deciding apparently at the last minute to do so, thus, the non-focus on her face. Nevertheless, it was so helpful to hear from her, what she saw happen. Furthermore, I learned it was she who grabbed the policeman, telling him to call the ambulance. I've wondered about how she must have felt seeing me go down like I did, and now I know. If only I could fill in the missing piece about how I got to be where I was the second time I passed out ,but my policeman friend has not been scheduled at the market since I've returned. Seems crazy that I'd want to know, but I do. It will be then that the entire horrible episode will be behind me. She was super sweet to check on me, wasn't she?

About a month ago we learned that our friends, every Sunday around 5, invite friends to sit in their driveway and catch up for the week. Well, and then there are some light refreshments, but you figured that I'm sure.
We met these folks over at Cheryle's house, and everyone is just so nice. On the far right is Cathy Hill, and here is her husband, Bunker Hill.
No kidding, that is his real name. One of the beautiful features of Southern Oaks, where they live, is the manicured lawns. Seriously, nearly every single one is perfect. And then there is Mr. Hill, who maintains a lovely front yard, but in the back--well, he is returning it to nature. Behind him are the bags of shredded oak leaves he uses for mulch, and in front of him is his little shed. He's a very interesting guy with a very interesting name. :)

While going through some things I came across our travel plans for last year. It is very hard to imagine we left for London on this very day, one year ago. Although that trip got off to a bit of a shaky start, it sure ended up in wonderful fashion. Matt and Tom are celebrating their first anniversary Sunday. Click here if you want to go down memory lane.

Amazingly enough, for the first time in more years than I can remember, we are getting a tax refund. Actually, we are applying it to next year's tax bill, but still. Olga, our former CPA, referred us to a firm where she worked right out of college. Everything has gone well. I picked up the forms to sign on Monday morning in the rain. Located in Winter Park, I thought the building architecture was very modern for that quaint little city.
Driving home I made a stop at Mead Gardens to see what I could see. The bromeliads are blooming...
As are the amaryllis...
The rain makes all the colors very intense, don't you think? Then too, who can resist the tiny droplets left on the new growth of, I believe, a cedar tree?
While there I decided to fool around with some of the art settings on my camera, switching it to "dramatic monochrome." The weather was slightly dramatic, so why not the photographs? My brother Pat and his lovely wife married right here. How many years ago you ask? More than twenty is all I can come up with!
The wrought iron is delightful! When I am in the picture taking mood, any subject presents possibilities. While sitting at the stop light I wondered how long it took for the light covers to lose their paint.
At one time they were entirely black, and now they are silver. Then again, when am I not in the picture taking mood? The answer is NEVER!

One final stop- a tiny lake off Briarcliff, not far from Angela's house. An unattractive wood stork was feeding along the shoreline.
Switching back to color--ducks and their reflections.
Thinking of Angela and Matt, the feeding tube is in, his spirits are high, but his pain level is up. Bruce called the other evening only to discover that Matt finds it next to impossible to talk because his throat is so sore. Texting to the rescue! Visiting right now is out of the question. :(

Well, I've put off those dishes long enough--heading to the kitchen for kp duty.

Thanks for reading,
Gail


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