Sometimes I wonder what living with lighter colors would be like... Perhaps lighter and brighter is the way to go. When I saw this photo from Pottery Barn, I admit to a titch of envy. What I have is dark upholstery and trees so near that very little bright sunshine gets through. Now I'll never be able to afford a seaside home, yet a gal can dream.
This morning, a little past nine, John and I were seated together on the big blue sofa when I heard the whistling. "Shhhhhh..." I admonished John because I wanted him to hear it, too.
I usually wake to whistling. 'Tis a fresh little melody that floats over the breeze and through my window. I have determined that it is my neighbor's neighbor who whistles as he tends his garden. I certainly hope that he keeps earlier hours tomorrow morning because I have grown quite dependent upon that alarm.
This led to John's telling me a story about his uncle who in the 1930s was arrested for whistling while delivering papers on his early morning route. Apparently, folks do not appreciate whistling at four in the morning. Well I wouldn't either, but seven is very good.
Thank you, thank you for all the wonderful recommendations that you've given. (You can stop now. ☺) I'm still trying to get them sorted and will have another post some time this week with the remainder. There are so many beautiful blogs out there and so little time. Say, do you ever allow yourself to visit a blog over and over without commenting?
Closing with another reading recommendation because my friend Abby at Little Birdie Blessings wrote a terrific post that is quintessentially Maine. What a fun read! The post: The Abigail is Seaworthy. (I also love how she used her husband as blog fodder. There are many of us who do.)
A light, bright week to you with a whistled melody on the breeze!