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I had hoped last night to find a close-enough wordpress theme to get gnomeishhaiku going but after a few false starts I gave up. I don’t know why they don’t require nested menus for navigation, I mean, seriously.
What this really means is that I don’t have a good enough view of what I want. I figured out some of that while looking at too many themes.
Today the sun is shining and it’s brisk and breezy. I got gas for the mower and mowed the front so the neighbors can not freak out for a few days. Now I’m off to have dinner with the folks. I was going to go to the Crandell tonight but it’s The Voice so I could pick what I see tonight and see rerun of the voice if I had to.
Also, my virtual yard now is graced with a few garden dwarves… but my neighbor has put the whole community to shame. I hear there’s a petition in the works. I’m not going back to birch trees… not ever.
11:15 pm and it’s 35°F.
Welcome to spring in New England.
So yes, I did cover up my few plants in pots after putting them on the screened porch. Sleep tight guys!
I spent some time outside today, whacking away at dead and not-so dead roses. I was trying to reclaim an area that has some old moss roses which are thorny beyond words but in amongst it all is a whopper of a dog rose. I’m still standing, but I’m not sure what to do with the pile of trimmings.
Still and all it was a great day to spend outside.
Cutting away the dead roses, thorny
stalks brown and tangled canes which grab my sleeves
setting to work on my ungloved hands which
accept the thorns sharpened by last winter.
The drops of blood dry in the crevasses
barn red paint dry as the skin beneath it
the hot scratches itchy, stinging, pricking,
the last revenge of the sprawling wild rose
Then there’s the question of the dead branches
they fight being bundled, can’t be carried
despite being cut down to the ground, they
grow upward, flaunting curvy abandon
I can release the thorny, weedy wont,
by holding to the fragrance of the rose.
eating my lunch and geeking out, watching the Apple event via live-blogging. Aren’t you glad I’m not there? I type pretty quickly.
Bento lunch with tomatoes from Mike and Peg’s garden. Thanks!
This is not news to anyone. We’ve been about a month with little rain and are seriously behind in total rainfall. The heat, even for mid-July is dreadful. Maybe I say that every year but it’s been bad. I worry for the wee furry ones but they’re holding up fine. They take turns laying belly up in various places during the day and night and follow me around when I’m home.
Although the well seems just fine, my Yankee nature I guess has kicked in and I’ve been saving grey water for the gardens. I know the plants appreciate it (even the weeds) and my hope is to keep any rain from running off. I can tell in the front bed that the years of leaves and humus really help hold the moisture and the hostas look happy no matter what.
In the night I arc
the pail of soapy water
to thirsty flowers.
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