Ten dollars seems a very small price to pay, to learn that planting daylilies is not my idea of a Real Good Time. When I borrowed the spade on Monday night, I promised to bring it back on Wednesday. I did. I also plucked up the daylily that I had kinda-sorta planted in the front yard and took it and its moshy brothers over to Secondborn’s house.
They are both way younger than I am, and 2BDH has mad martial arts skills. If he cannot wrestle that mutinous flora into submission, then they are free to toss them into their compost pile. I am Done! With! Daylilies! I've never had a quick fling with the vegetable kingdom before. I feel triste and a little grubby.
I told Secondborn that I was going to celebrate the breakup with a pint of ice cream. But when I got to the store, I was seduced by the display of Pink Lady apples. So I bought exactly one of them and brought it home and dug out the Nutella.
Would Pink Lady apples grow here? Could I
This is a big part of why Anne Perry is one of my favorite writers. I love how she thinks, and I love how she writes.
Behold, a nearly-finished first sock.
I am soldiering away on the second Anastasia. Chances are excellent that both will be done sometime this weekend, especially after tomorrow’s adventures. But that is another post for another day.