Straw, not Hay

Been married to an agriculturalist for most of my life, but still called this hay, quickly corrected by said agriculturalist.

Taken as we were leaving the steel place in Spain this morning, in case I didn't get anything else - and I didn't. Went in the opposite direction, to Évora, after lunch and nap, for insulation (which we didn't get), and boards, which we did, and saw a fantastic, post sunset sky, with the thumbnail moon, but no place to stop.

Gratefuls:
- all three grandkids getting great evaluations (though, wierdly, no mention was made at the two-year-old's check-up, that both she and her parents were using Portuguese a lot of the time)
- Mike getting into this new project, combined porch for N Wing, and insulation for second room
- stopping at the main square in Reguengos on the way back from Évora, for a drink and a snack (the telly was showing one of the "Planet of the Apes" films, which neither of us had ever seen, and never realised the racial implications of it)

And also, Kendall introducing me to the poetry of Ted Kooser, absolutely loved reading bits to Mike as we drove all the way to Spain and back. Look at this one about one of his early morning walks:

Walking by flashlight 
at six in the morning,
my circle of light on the
gravel
swinging side to side,
coyote, raccoon, field
mouse, sparrow,
each watching from
darkness
this man with the moon
on a leash.


(Hoping this isn't breaking copyright rules, don't know if it's the whole poem or just an extract.)