Trying not to squash any new grass, I tiptoed out to the garden this morning to see what's growing and found lots of interesting things. Like tiny yellow flowers on my Sweet 100 tomato plant,
lots of happy lettuces (chicken wire protects them from rabbits),
three potato plants growing like crazy with their onion balemates,
carrots and radishes coexisting happily,
and a mushroom! (I've been half-convinced that my bales had some sort of anti-fungal spray since no mushrooms had grown but there are some now. Whew.)
I've started to walk around the block in the mornings and can't figure out what kind of tree this is. It's short, has seven leaflets on each leaf, and clusters of pale green spiky balls. Anyone know what kind of tree this is? It isn't on my tree ID folder and I can't narrow it down to search on the web. Help!
A Bluejay visited the spilled cracked corn this morning. It's been months since I've seen one. Welcome back.
I frogged (ripped out) the Fake Isle hat. I've been avoiding knitting on it for weeks and admitted today that I just don't enjoy the technique so I turned it back into two balls of yarn. I tried. This yarn will be happy making something else one of these days.
The June Seaman's Cowl is getting taller. It's the perfect project for sitting and chatting--knit 2, purl 2 around and around until it's 6-7" tall. Mindless knitting, little thinking required. Perfect.
28 June--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon.
Clara opened my back door
when I got to the steps. “What took you
so long? I nearly froze out there so I
let myself in.”
“We stayed longer at the
café. I was afraid you’d think I’d
fallen in a hole. You weren’t worried,
were you?”
“A bit. I made the tea already. Grab a mug.”
“I feel like I did coming
home after a dance to find Mom waiting up for me,” I said as I hung up my
coat. “Clara, you are not going to
believe what just happened.”
“What? Did Abel show up and ask you out?”
I sat down across from
her and poured myself some tea. “Floyd
made a pass at me.”
“The old guy? The gnome?
He made a pass?” She
chuckled. “Well, I’ll be.”
“It was awful. At first he said he admired my paintings and
suggested we get together at his studio some afternoon. Then he ground himself into me and tried to
grab my breasts. When I pushed his hands
away and said I didn’t want a boyfriend, he told me he had a wife and a
girlfriend already.”
“Why, that old goat.”
“Exactly. His exact words were, ‘How about a little
tumble?’ Can you believe it?”
“I don’t know how you
could resist that line.” She tried to
take a sip of her tea but snorted it up her nose instead. That started the two of us giggling. “Do you think he’s invited many women to his
studio?” she managed to choke out.
It took me a minute to
catch my breath. “Oh, maybe when he was
younger he did but these days I imagine it’s all in his mind.”
Clara nodded. “So, when are you two getting together?” she
said. “To paint, I mean.”
I looked to see if she
was serious, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Oh, Floyd’s hard to resist, but I think I’ll
wait for a better offer. One from a man
who is a little younger and not as likely to stroke out if he gets too excited,
if you know what I mean.”
I ran to the grocery for a quick stop on my way home from knitting and thought the sunset was worth a picture or two. I'm always happy to find a place where the sky is big.
--Barbara
1 comment:
Your bale garden is incredible. I think it should be featured in a gardening magazine or somewhere so more people than us "followers" could see how amazing it is. So much stuff growing in a small area. It all looks beautiful. Love your latest sewing project. Can't believe there wasn't the proper binding in your mother's stash. That -- like the pink plastic wrap -- seemed endless!
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