Peeping at the maples
Monday, 3 October 2011

We’re moving north, and, yes, D, you are correct, we’re also moving into full fall color. And we are peeping!
Monday, 3 October 2011

We’re moving north, and, yes, D, you are correct, we’re also moving into full fall color. And we are peeping!
Tuesday, 27 September 2011

Somehow I screwed up the seasons for the amaryllis. But, I’m guessing, no bloom is on the way. So, does this mean the bulb is becoming a has-been? Dunno the botany of these bulbs.
Monday, 26 September 2011

We’ve left the heat of summer behind, and the basil is still trying to flower (natch)—which reminds me, I gotta get out there and trim the nascent blooms again….
Saturday, 24 September 2011
Night redbud.
Some lumber-jacking in the yard this morning. So, I made pancakes.
It was not a cause-and-effect situation.
Wednesday, 21 September 2011

Muddled around all day, and the household trash recepticals still need to be emptied.
Decided on a menu for tomorrow’s intimate dinner for four. Well, except I’m not sure if I’ll do the key lime pie or not.
Friday, 16 September 2011

Despite yesterday’s fading leaf, today I found a happy late-season lily (canna?).
We visited a delightful independent book store—all kids books—over in Decatur—Little Shop of Stories (cute name; cute store), during our search for the legendary Pat the Bunny (by Dorothy Kunhardt—yes, I had to look that up). Pat dates back to 1940…. Little Shop—highly recommended.
Thursday, 15 September 2011

Yes, the buds are red (or a shade of pink)…this time of the year, the leaves are…rusty, with yellowy-green accents.
Time doeth march on.
Sunday, 11 September 2011

Sunlight and shadow. Foreground leaf and background emptiness. Somehow this seems like it’s close to being a metaphor for today.
Friday, 9 September 2011

I’ve got to find my picking basket; these both are rehd-ee!
I did some writing today that felt good; hopefully, there’s momentum behind it. Or underneath it. Somewhere.
Wednesday, 31 August 2011

We’ve got some great neighbors. They gave the Thai basil love while we were gone, and, bzzzt, look at the size of that plant—one, count ’em, one plant.
The color you see encroaching on the basil…. The yellow on the left is a blooming miniature French marigold—the only one of the flat that survived. The red at the left foreground, that’s the fruit of a volunteer plant of that decorative (I swear) teeny, lumpy pepper that I planted last year. Self-seeding can rock.
Anyway, I think I’ll snip back all the blossoms and see what the plant does. It may be frustrated and burst forth with leaves. Or the heat may subdue it. Or?