RIP Christopher Plummer. I remember first seeing him as the father in The Sound of Music and wishing he were my dad, for some odd reason. I fantasized about riding on his shoulders as he carried me along a trail, hanging onto my legs. I don’t know what’s weirder, having that fantasy as a six-year-old or remembering I had that fantasy more than 50 years ago. I like to think he’s hiking in some beautiful mountains, the sun beaming down, and a light breeze caressing his face.
I frequently pass this pile of boulders, which is down the street from me next to an apartment complex. I guess the builders couldn’t be bothered to haul them away. Were they in situ when the apartments were built? Or were they dug from the ground during construction and piled there? However they materialized, I’m glad they were left in place; they remind me of Montana. Someone has placed a painted rock there. What is its origin?
The snowdrops are blooming along the trail. YAY, harbingers of spring!
BTW, I’m now into this National [Whatever] Day. Among other things, today is National Shower with a Friend Day (hmm) and National Chocolate Fondue Day (yes, please). And this view of the back of my house today.