MeadFest and Bottle Brushes
Our driveway had puddles; the skies had puffy white clouds floating across the bay, and there was a gentle breeze. Our drive through the marshes of southeast Texas was pleasant enough in itself but we hoped we would not be too late for the MeadFest.
A versatile musician was singing and playing a sax–a variety of songs appealing to those of us who remembered when we bought the vinyl records; vendors were offering samples of their mead, one offered beautiful wooden mugs, and then there was the winery offerings.
I attempted to take photos of the bees harvesting nectar from the bottle brush shrubs–wildly waving blooms despite a helping steadying hand from husband.
And then there was the dog.
Glen nearly always has dog biscuits in his pants pockets.
This dog was not quite so sure about this.
Sylvia Weir Art 