This is the salad bowl of tea.
It goes on top of the refrigerator. It is useful because it is a salad bowl that holds tea, and nothing else in the house seems to want to do this job. It mostly holds the tea. Sometimes the whole thing falls, or some of the tea falls, but mostly it holds the tea.
This is a cereal bowl of lilacs.
The lilacs lacked the stem-length for a vase, which is common when [REDACTED] takes scissors outside. The bowl provides the structural integrity to feature the flowers’ abundance, rather than what one might call “butchery.”
Editor’s note: Airline scones provide contrast for an organic tableau.
This is a man wearing some things.
The man believes he is wearing an outfit. It consists of a tucked-in dinosaur t-shirt with a black dress-belt, shortish navy shorts, and sporty winter knee-socks. He has been eating airline scones. I hope the salad bowl of tea does not fall on him.
*Note: the man in the image wishes to point out the foreshortening effect of an iPhone camera held too high. He does not seem to realize he has bigger problems, such as his winter knee-socks.
The banjo at the bottom of the guest bed remains on location.
Watch this space for developments. There have been no developments yet.
This is the cleanest stinkbug in the world.
Post- “sanitize” cycle.
This is popcorn suspended in invisible cobwebs.
What might one experience, what might one notice, if one could be suspended like this popcorn, without anyone noticing for twenty-four hours?
“You should hush be quiet.”
Timeless reminder.
This is a slip-n-slide hanging to dry.
There have since been four rainstorms. It is drying.
This is a game of chicken: who will break down and learn lath-and-plaster skills on YouTube first?
Now entering Year Five.
This is a dead rosemary plant next to two live rosemary plants.
All three contracted a downy white fungus. The one on the right was killed by exposure when [REDACTED] spotted the initial fungus, entered a sadistic rage-state, and put it on the back porch in January. [REDACTED] is the same person who continues to care for the other two rosemary plants using a completely invented, semi-effective, bi-weekly floor-spray regimen.
This is called regret.
Upon waking on a Wednesday morning, when the Sciencenter reopened for the week, Junkette found that she had built her nest next to the Gong Station.
This is the gong station.
We live at the gong station. Godspeed, good people all.
A keen eye for details. A lot of these captions remind me of Kerouac's American haikus. While his were a bit more nature-oriented, the domestic lens still contributes in lovely ways.
You’ve made my day, and it’s only 8:20am! CAN’T STOP LAUGHING!!!
Godspeed, Dearheart🙏