When we were doing that whole hide the key in the middle of the English gentleman thing earlier this week [“Basil”, which I always pronounce “bazzle”, as in “Rathbone”, not “basal” as in “ganglia”; this was Middlest’s metaphor, which we thought hilarious; your mileage may vary], the soil was still damp from all of the rain we have had because of Ike and his predecessors.
Thursday morning, when I retrieved the old key because we have disposed of its lock-set, I poked my finger into the soil and realized that it was time to water again.
I had not watered the tomatoes in maybe ten days. I’ve pretty much given up on the left-hand plant; the critters have tunneled away in the leaves long enough that it is just barely hanging on. But look what I saw when I gave the right-hand plant a little swig:
Tomato blossoms! [This picture taken about 7:45 at night.] I grinned all the way to the train station.
Anastasia behaved herself all day; lots of progress here. Also some pooling on the soles.
And even more pooling on the public side. With a side order of striping.
There neither pooling nor striping on either of the mismatched socks that I frogged to make these. I still love these socks; what I have lost in randomness of color is more than made up for by the fact that both will fit my feet.
I got so involved in conversation with one of my train friends last night [about her crocheting and my knitting and the book she is writing, and the draft that is in my filing cabinet] that I forgot to get off two stations before the terminal. I didn’t realize this until I stepped off the train, saw no sign of Lorelai, and then remembered boarding the train at Richland Hills. Back onto the train I went, for more happy knitting. I got home almost an hour later than normal. Thank goodness for cold pizza in the fridge!
As soon as Middlest emails me the illustration she has promised, I will have more delicious nonsense for all y’all.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!