Since I probably will lack photos for at least another day or two, I present you with the letter "P."
Diann has tagged me in an ongoing game of Alphabet Blog-Tag.
The game goes like this: somebody tags you and gives you a letter of the alphabet.
Now you're It.
You list ten things you like that start with that letter.
When people respond to your post, you randomly assign a letter to them, and, if they have a blog, then they list ten things. And so on.
Diann gave me "P."
Pets, of course, is a little too obvious for me. That's what I live and breathe and it's also my job. I could stay with Pets, and come up with Paws, Purring, Puppies, Palominos, Pythons, Ponies, Pugs, Persians, Parrots, Pyrenees, Pharoah Hounds, Pomeranians, etc. and tons and tons of other living things I dearly love that start with "P," without ever leaving one topic or even getting into veterinary terminology or non-companion animals like Pumas and Pangoliins.
So I'll venture outside the realm of things a reader might immediately suspect about me, which means I will also leave out things like Purling (which I do love), and Peace Fleece, and Prism yarn, and Koigu KPPPM, which technically does not start with a P but contains a lot of them.
The Letter P:
Pastures. Preferably dotted with sheep.
Pink; not the color but:
d.) all of the above.
Poe, Edgar Allen.
Pisceans (it is amazing how many Pisceans are in my life -- including my husband and mother. Also lots of Capricorns in my close circle, too).
Porches. Big honking old-fashioned front porches, not open decks baking in the summer sun, and not those nondescript little modern concrete ground-level landings which don't hold much more than a mailbox and a potted plant. I like deep, shady porches with steps, and a good solid railing, and a ceiling fan, and a screen door, and porch furniture, and a swing, and maybe even a hammock. The kind of front porch where you can sit and drink coffee and read the newspaper on a rainy Sunday morning in your pajamas without the neighbors pointing fingers at you and snickering.
Professor Longhair (how can you be from New Orleans and not love Professor Longhair?)
Portland, Oregon, where I would dearly love to live one day, which is full of ...
Pine trees and...
Precipitation. Okay, I'm a freak. I love rain and snow and most other things that come out of the sky in reasonable quantities, unless it is precipitation in some extreme form, or a tornado, or an object being hurled at me by a hurricane. I am a high-energy, high-anxiety horse, and few things besides knitting soothe me they way rain does. Rain on a tin roof ... damn, if I had a continuous loop tape of that, I probably would not need sleep aids. Not just rain-sounds like on those little noise machines that make surf sounds and waterfall noises. Rain on a tin roof, specifically.
Pekoe. Love me some strong, black tea.
Hopefully, I will have photos tomorrow.