getting the hang of thursdays

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Good run this morning. It was raining, and my sweatshirt was inadequate, so I wasn't planning on going very far, but at the last minute I turned up into the park and ran home through there. I love the park when everything's still blue and vague. I ran past the playground, red and yellow cutouts gleaming with rain. I cut up along the duckpond where the mallards were all chuckling with consternation at finding themselves awake, then through the arbour and into a green tunnel of hedge that hides a little bridge. A blue heron lifted its head among the stones not two feet from me and looked at me with surprise but without fear. Then the path went up onto the rocks, and I ran along the ridge there, with flashes of the park showing below me. I love these clusters of tiny adventures you find in the park.

Then I came home and ate breakfast in my mostly clean kitchen and made these notes. As I ate, my eyes roamed over the meager stock of my pantry (well, onion basket.) This question has been puzzling me: Is there any reason you can't eat the stalks of a sprouted onion? Would be similar to eating chives?

I didn't really clean yesterday. Mostly I talked to inlandsea and brooded. I put things into boxes that didn't really need to go away yet, and didn't tidy up the things I meant to.

But this is a Thursday, and I generally do pretty well with Thursdays, so I am optimistic.
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