Nothing Ready for Harvest

Every morning Durwood asks me if there's anything to pick, any tomatoes especially, and I have to tell him no, the goofball.  It's been so chilly the last couple days, mid-40s at night and barely 60 in the day--that I'm sure the seeds and plants are out there muttering about the weather and trying to decide whether to grow or stay tucked in the nice warm garden.  Except for one asparagus plant that's sending up a spear or two every couple days.  I really need to get out there and weed out the volunteer violets to give the asparagus room to grow.  Maybe Wednesday...





The lilacs are still blooming and smelling great,








                                 the fern fronds are still unfurling,

Dad's rose is sending out what Grandma Angermeier used to call "new wood" instead of popping out leaves and buds on the "old wood" which it did every year until last year so I guess there won't be any early roses *sigh*,



 




      and the allium in the front are blooming, their flower heads about the size of billiard balls.

After supper I sat knitting while watching Antiques Roadshow and got halfway on the second charity dishcloth.  It's hard to see the pattern but it's making diagonal ridges so it'll be a good scrubber cloth.  I'll make this again, probably with solid color yarn so the pattern shows.


May 21--After Sydney Parkinson, The Head of a Chief of New Zealand.  The man with the tribal tattoos on his face sat staring straight ahead.  He had boarded the subway at the same stop that Deb had.  She saw him on the platform in his navy suit, wingtip shoes, and camel overcoat.  He looked like a thousand other businessmen in the city except for the black dots, lines, and swirls the covered the planes of his face.

Interesting.  I met my writing friend this afternoon and managed to wring out a couple pages of the next chapter in an hour or so.  I sure do enjoy it when I can steal away, plug in my earbuds, and let my fingers pound out a story.  Maybe one of these days I'll have more brain space available to write like that more often.  We're going to aim for every two weeks, develop a rhythm.   I just got back from a Kwik Trip run, picking up bananas, donuts for Durwood, and milk.  Neither time that I was out and about today did I remember we were out of bananas, etc. so I had to drive off after 9:30 for emergency rations.  Good thing it's close.  Time to hit the hay.
--Barbara