I read a NewYorker article about loss and lost. It started with losing track of keys and the like, then veered off to emotional loss. The macro lens had been misplaced; in active voice: I forgot where I put it. Turns out it was right under my nose. That’s the way it goes, eh?
Above is a hyacinth that’s beginning to open in the front yard. I forgot where the bulbs came from, but I relocated them to take advantage of more light/less tree cover, and they’re taking advantage of the relative warmth we’ve been having.
And this is a knurled dial. I instinctively want to express that it’s knurling, but I’m not sure that is correct.