This couple showed up in our back yard one day in October of 2020. I had never seen quail here before that and I have never seen any since.


When I was a regular poster at New Cafe, one of the other regulars that I chatted with frequently was also a labyrinth walker. She and her ex-husband had gotten back together after a long break and a lot of growth (probably on both parts) and she was taking care of him at the end of his life. He reached a point where he couldn’t talk, couldn’t really hold a book and was trapped in his slowly deteriorating body. She asked if anyone would be willing to send him postcards. I bought a pack of postcard stamps and got to writing. I don’t think he got a year of cards. But, I sent some I’m In NC!! cards that had touristy stuff on them. And when I went anywhere, I looked for cards for Andy. He got a couple from our trip to Wyoming.
When he finally died, she posted that his favorite flowers were daffodils amd said that if anyone felt like doing something, planting daffodils would be a nice thing. So, I got some daffodils to plant in the labyrinth and when they bloomed I posted a picture of them to her. She thought that was lovely.
They grew nicely in that patch and always reminded me of my long distance friend and a little family that had come to reconciliation after some stuggles. (Their adult son was pleased that his parents had been able to find their way back to each other, even as he completely understood why they had to be apart originally.)
When I dismantled the labyrinth, the daffodils stayed. And when the flowerbed that had there for a few years was being lifted up and moved around, they got transplanted to the bed by the road.
Well. Most of them did.
It appears I didn’t get all the bulbs. So, there’s still a ghost of the labyrinth daffodils holding on in the back yard. I’m OK with that.

The Cafe was an important part of my online social life and I made several significant relationships that have continued even as that website has changed and I have wandered off.
Andy’s daffodils are sort of Cafe Daffodils. When they bloom, I am reminded of all those people and conversations.
Ann sent me a picture she thought I would want to see. She was correct. It’s an interesting piece that addresses domestic violence.

It inspired me to look up the photographer. Her name is Sujata Setia.
She does not blink.
Our Story Matters is the title of an ongoing exhibition at the Columbia (SC) Museum of Art. The exhibition is kind of small (as you will see if you click through). Mostly because the pieces in it are more memorabilia and historical information than art. That said, it is an interesting display of Columbia’s equivalent to Durham’s Black Wall Street.
And there is some art. Patricia A. Montgomery is a textile artist who makes swing coats that tell stories. The one on the website now is not the one I saw. So, it appears that they are changing them out periodically. If I was closer to Columbia, I would make a point of going by to see them because the one I did see was impressive.
Sarah Mae Flemming was one of the people who stood up for the right to sit down.

And Ms. Montogmery made a coat about her.


