There was a nice package in the mail last night - summer socks! Hard not to find a smile in this.
Photographed in the herb garden with the helleborus looking on - so pretty. Green thoughts are returning-
Thus the switch with the blog as well - perhaps a reminder that this gardening season waits in the wings will cheer me. I hope so because I'm really feeling the Malcontent. My sister is vacationing in Savannah and Charleston this week - shedding her winter skin for the balmy southern climate. I'm bitter. Admitting it makes me feel lighter.
I've finished two shawls in the past week - the Citron and the Holden. 1500 stitches are required to finish the picot edge on the Holden - and yes, I admit it, I wept from time to time from sheer frustration! I have to block these beauties and send them off to their new homes. I also finished one sock and cast on its mate -
And there were numerous walks in the yard with Himself who has perfected the art of the 'Hang Dog' expression. Look at that face. Could you say nay to that oogie?
I should probably explain the backdrop in this image so that ya'll don't think I reside in a shack. This is a little room off of the kitchen that was once an exterior portion of the older part of the house. We haven't done a single thing with it because there are larger, more potent plans for a total kitchen redo - down the road...(further than before since we didn't hit that mega!) It's a great room for Harley and his toys. Southern exposure makes it cozy and pleasant even though it has zip interior appeal! It's a dog-friendly space and every dog-loving home needs one!
Do you recognize this shrub? No? A close up -
The true harbinger of spring -
Who knows which willow variety this is?
Finally, a little Billy Collins to wash away that Annie Wilkes mindset -
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and - somehow - the wine.