They're everywhere at this time of year -- bright yellow daffodils. (Maybe some of them are jonquils. Is there a difference? I'm not sure.)
These were in Fortune Green, where I took Olga yesterday for a mud-splattered Kong-chasing session...
...and these were on Hampstead Heath, during our mud-splattered walk on Saturday...
...and these are in our own back garden.
At this time of year, when most things are wet and brown and muddy and dormant, it's hard not to love a daffodil.
We spent yesterday mostly inside. The forecast called for rain, but it turned out to be a bizarre mix of rain and sunshine that varied literally from minute to minute. As I mentioned, I did take the dog out, but that was the most exercise I got.
I finished "The Green Singers," one of the old books I bought a few weeks ago, and it was good! I'm not sure I'd call it "homoerotic" -- that would be overselling it, and after all it was published in 1958 -- but it definitely had gay overtones. My library colleague carefully covered it with plastic to preserve the dust jacket, and I'm happy to add it to my shelves.
We also watched some movies. In an effort to find something action-y that Dave would like, I chose "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom," which I'm sure I saw at some point in the '80s but didn't remember at all. Now I see why. What a dismal movie. One long, agonizing bout of screaming and stomach-churning chaos and juvenile gross-out gags. Truly, truly terrible.