Sixty-two notecards, hand-made postcards, and letters went out today. Sixty-two pieces of joy and fun.
There was lovely mail in. I did not stop to count because there was a package waiting. Oh, joy! Over-excited, I forgot to take a photo of the package in the box. Thank you, Dodson, D.! I didn't have to stoop to retrieve it either. More joy.
Colorful candies, reminding me of Mexico. Thanks, JC. Instead of a lousy t-shirt, I get the complimentary sweets from his last trip to Chicago. I wonder if they taste as pretty as they look.
They matched some of the mail.
A pretty little piglet. Spooky. Flowers for eyes? Those brown stripes threw me. Are Chinese pigs so different from American swine?
I reckon she's mine. She's so fine. I like her style, from head to tail. My father sent my sister, Betty a beautiful piggy bank from Germany. I hadn't been born, so, too bad, so sad. Well, I have my own piggy bank now. I cannot help but wonder why the slot is atop her back. Why not her mouth?The farmer's money goes into his pig's mouth, so why not? Or the middle of her forehead? Oh! No! Not the other end! No matter. My birthday money will find its way.
There's more mail to scan, more gifts to share, a winner to announce! Wait! Make that TWO winners to announce. The Toymaker's gift goes to Davia, the only entrant! Yea, Davia! It's one of my favorites. I know your mom is hands-on, so you're gonna be one smarter girl. Your prize goes out Monday.
Then there's a prize for the giveaway inspired by Angela's "Poetry in Motion" postcard. Randall won! I like this postcard. I like the poem that came with:
The spring clouds blow
Above the shuttered mansion houses
Beyond our gate and the windy sky
Cries out a literate despair
We knew for long the mansion's look
And what we said of it became
A part of what it is . . .
-from "A Postcard from the Volcano" by Wallace Stevens.
A gift for a gift. Thank you, Randall. Wallace does not "look" like a poet, does he. He reminds me of Walter Cronkite. Oh. I hope you like your prize. It's something I can never have too much of. Thanks for playing.
Stay tuned. There's more good stuff ahead.
And, there's a story about this: A fledgling in a fig tree. It flew/fell from the crepe myrtle, barely missed my head, but managed to touch my shoulder. What is it? A mockingbird?