At least I think that's what the boy Bluejay said to the girl Bluejay up in the apple tree this morning.
I made an executive decision re: LC's Threes Sweater last night. I'm going to knit the dark purple until it is the same length as the light purple and then do the garter bands on the bottom. That'll make the body a bit longer than it is wide and I think it'll look just dandy.
I can see how knitting helical socks can be addicting. I am endlessly amused at the way these three yarns spiral around and pile up on top of each other.
While relocating some empty pots onto the edge of the patio I spied Bleeding Heart buds. Just another sign of Spring. Signs are everywhere, even some trees are starting to look a little leafy.
May 6--Domenico di Michelino, Divine Comedy Enlightening Florence. I didn't want to hear it. The monk or friar or whatever he was stood on the corner reading some old story by a guy named Dante. Something about the levels of Hell. Oh, and he said it's a comedy. I don't know what his definition of a comedy is but going to Hell doesn't sound funny to me.
And that's when I fell dead asleep face down on my notebook for half an hour before levering myself up enough to close the book, take off my glasses, and turn out the light. Man, I was tired from that hour of gardening. My hamstrings are letting me know how much they enjoyed the work too. They don't know it yet but I'm taking them out later today for another session of "let's chase weeds" (my Grandma Angermeier used to say she was going out to chase weeds and if it was good enough for her, it's good enough for me) this time with a shovel and kneeler so I can oust the clumps of violets and the drift of quack grass that was not under landscape fabric. Tally-ho!
--Barbara
No comments:
Post a Comment