Abby and I spotted a pair of roadrunners in the pasture the other day. That’s pretty cool. We didn’t get a change to photograph them. They were not being chased by a coyote, and it should be noted that since we got Hawken the Irish Wolfhound, we haven’t seen or heard even one coyote. We used to see, and especially hear, coyotes all the time.
I have make excellent strides in the garden, but my plans are so ambitious that it may be another week before I get seeds in the ground.
The redbud, our excellent flowering tree in the front yard, which we got from the City of Ada for free after they had a giveaway following an ice storm (even though we don’t live in Ada), has made the very first green leaves from it’s excellent pink/fuschia buds, meaning that soon it will be just a tree, albeit a nice one. It is the State Tree of Oklahoma.
The peach blossoms are the same way – almost leafing out. Soon, hopefully, we will see tiny peaches.
Abby and I watched two Jennifer Aniston movies recently: Cake, her most serious, and Office Christmas Party, her least serious. It got me wondering about celebrity, and if celebrities are, or even can be, happy people. I’m pretty certain I’ve never seen a celebrity on the trail at Canyonlands or at a shop in Santa Fe, and it’s hard to imagine someone like Aniston or Michael Jackson or George Lucas or the Coen brothers out in the garden like I was today, clumsily pounding fenceposts into the corners of the patch and tilling an additional spot for Abby’s squash plants. I wonder of they all have Mexican gardeners and private reservations at Aspen, and I wonder what that must be like. What’s it like to be a barely-relatable public icon, gushed and fawned over but an unwashed, worshipful fan base?