D.O.P.-T. (day before yesterday)

The housemate forgot a sweet potato and it became wizened and studded with hopeful little fronds, so I glopped some of the finished compost from the large bucket at the top of the driveway into the big square planter that I have on bricks near the kitchen window, which had been standing fallow. The compost came with its own retained water, but I'll add some every day for a while and see whether it manages to produce any plants. According to Wikipedia the flowers are morning-glory-like and the foliage is edible.

D.O.P.-T. (yesterday)

Surprisingly chilly in the evening when I got up and set out for work, and the clouds at sunset looked as if they were thinking about making a storm.

D.O.P.-T.

I'm less and less often able to read in the bus in either direction, but I'm more often getting a seat by dint of pushiness, perching (sometimes sideways) beside folks who would rather occupy two seats with their arms, legs, and clobber; my own clobber is thus heaped on my lap, and there isn't space for a book or newspaper.