Tonal

Not done, obviously, but the change in tone seems evident.

Our neighbors to the back have chickens. Saw the guy in our back yard last night while I read in bed. I wasn't immediately sure it was him, having only met him once quite a while ago. So, I went out to say 'hi', as one does. Yup, same guy. Granola to the max, very nice, looking for a frightened chicken. He found her wedged between a wooden and a chain link fence behind my next door neighbor's yard and his. (It's that sort of arrangement.)



I can see them if I creep between the garages and look through the fence remnant. Nice to have 'em. I may get eggs.

All I can focus on are small things, since the big things are so disturbing, and so utterly beyond my influence. Doing what I can with all my heart.

Intentions

Switched days off, low census one day, stuffed schedule the next. I can accommodate, often to my own benefit. Not intentionally, but it tends to work out. D also got called off today, but I got impatient to get the inspection completed and went off in a slight huff.

Went back to the car inspections place, and he still rejected my brakes, after they'd been checked and adjusted. I'd been put off before by his attitude, absolute assurance, arrogance, but the common wisdom is to get emissions/inspections done at a place that doesn't do repairs. The repair place questioned how he did the brake inspection, based on what they found and adjusted. Inspection Guy scoffed at the Repair Place's suggestion that the equipment needed cleaning. "I recalibrate every 4 hours!" Yeah, I'm sure. I knew I'd get no satisfaction there, no compromise, no help. I left him with the clear impression that I thought little of him or his assessment, and would be permanently taking my business elsewhere.

Decided to just drive out to Repair Place and pay for a new inspection there. Before making the critical turn, I decided it wasn't fair to disappear for a couple of hours without letting D know, so I went home first. Once home, I decided to call ahead to Repair Place. Good thing, as they couldn't do the inspection again less than 14 days after the first failure at another place. They were very kind and helpful, and made the appropriate appointment, and calmed me down as well.

Took me a while to figure out what Inspection Guy could have gotten out of the issue, other than a simple power play. Well, there is an extra fee to have the Inspection place file the paperwork and issue an immediate registration certificate, which early folks like myself tend to do ourselves. It also occurred to me that the email I got said I was not required to pass a safety inspection this year, but once failed, the corrections had to be made. All rather convoluted, but I had the strong impression he was gaming the system somehow. I don't know, of course, but something was going on.

Repair Place has been straight with me for a long time, so I'm going there. Sometimes, common wisdom is an idiot.

I planned to put up some more grass-paper, and prepped the walls accordingly. Until I realized I'd not stripped the baseboards, and didn't want to use the heat gun after the grass-paper had gone up. And, both cats were happily on the bed.



Not going to strip paint that way with them there. So, I worked on a couple of the doors on the open back porch instead. When I came back in, and looked a little harder, I decided the base boards were going to be largely invisible most of the time. So, they will be painted a less-ugly color, in time, and we'll paper when we damn well feel like it.


Second thoughts can be very useful, sometimes.

Transluminate

Strong, brief storms blew through this evening. Eleanor does not care, jumps to the window to watch. Not at all like Moby in this. We sat on the porch a while, and she mewed until I brought her out. To her evident enjoyment, despite the large but spare raindrops.

Sun briefly transluminating the garden.



Catnip survived the early onslaught, and may well establish if left alone long enough.

Switched days off, take care of car registration tomorrow, and strip paint, maybe wallpaper some more.

Gingery

Busy Saturday, got the brakes adjusted to pass the safety inspection, picked up cat food and litter, then the Farmer's Market. D found some amazing ginger ale, which had a bit more lemon than I prefer, but it's wonderful strong. Beets for me, and lots of dog watching.



Then a Crazy Guy with a shopping cart full of stuff shouted at my neighbor's door from the sidewalk. I asked him to move along, and he made what could be considered a racial remark. Since my neighbor has very dark skin, this worried me even more. Mind you, it was said in Insane/high ramble, but still pretty clear. Told me, "You don't live here, none of your business!" I told him it was my business, as the neighbors here watch out for each other. He continued to escalate into an aggressive belligerence, so I got the phone and called the cops. I was not the first, he'd been causing trouble all down the street on his way. He wandered further down as I called, but never left the block. He harassed everyone walking by. When we walked over to the store, he was lying on the apartment's lawn. When we came back, he was ranting at a young guy right in front of our house. We held back, talking with other neighbors keeping en eye on him, until he moved. This continued for over an hour. When he came back to shout at my house again, I took the camera out and photographed him as he ranted about being on federal property and suing me, and called the cops again. At some point in between, patrol officers had talked to him, and left. Doing no good at all.

A while later, after not seeing him, I looked down the street, where several patrol cars and an ambulance parked, officers picking through the boxes on the cart. Spike's human, who'd also been called and kept watching the guy, told me Crazy Guy'd unhooked his sprinkler head earlier. And the Yard Sale neighbors from last week had stuff they were moving on their porch, and Crazy Guy had been poking through it. Whatever his deal was, he was frightening to all of us, and we are accustomed to odd people, including the drug affected and those in need of therapeutic drugs. Very threatening, worrisome. Hopefully, they can get him in treatment, and a treatment program.


I sent the photo to the cops. No reply, but I felt better for doing it.


Today, got the coolers cleaned and ready for next Saturday. Took off the door, and stripped it on the back porch, lots of ventilation and cats kept out. Harvested the pease and shelled them on the front porch. Planning to stir fry them for dinner with some ginger and soy sauce.

Also took Moby out for a long lounge among the buckwheat.

Fable

Once upon a time, a bright golden bird with a flash of red feathers sang in her little golden cage. The man would smile if she sang, tell her she was beautiful, and hit the cage if she tried to rest. The woman fed her and kept the cage cleaned, and covered the cage to let her sleep when the man slept.

"You are so lucky I keep you clean and fed, you noisy thing," Said the woman. And the bird was grateful.

One day the bird sang all day and all night to keep the man happy. But the moment she stopped to rest, he flew into a rage, and threw the cage onto the floor. It broke open, and the bird flew madly away, not knowing where to go, terrified and followed by screams.

"Ungrateful creature!" the woman shouted.

"Ugly beast!"the man screamed.

She flew and flew into the darkness and rain, until she could fly no more. Plodding along a road, growing heavier and heavier with each step, until she stopped.

A boy came upon her, and exclaimed "OH, what a lovely cow!"

For, indeed, she was now a large, golden red cow. He gently took her nose to lead her home. "Mother will be so pleased." He led her into a large warm barn, gave her water and food, and hugged her and told her she was beautiful. She thought, this is wonderful. The next morning, the mother appeared and milked her gently.

"Oh, how fortunate we are, now we have milk," said the mother.

And for a while, the cow was happy. She even tried to sing, but it wasn't pretty. Then, one day, her milk dried up, and the mother sent her with the boy to market. The boy cried, but obeyed, telling the cow she would feed the whole family for a year. On the road, he let her go, grabbed some beans from a field, and walked home, making up a story for his mother on the way.

She came to the sea, and she was so sad and so alone, that she waded in, not caring what would happen to her. And as she sank down, the water filled her, until she found herself deep, deep, deep on the floor of the sea. Until a hand pulled her up, up, up, into a boat.

"Ah, not often I see a good sponge here, I'll take you home for myself!" said the fisherman. He took the golden sponge with flecks of red - for so she had become, home to his bath. He poured sweet smelling soap through her and rubbed himself all over with her, and she was pleased to be loved.

Until one day, the fisherman looked at her, and said "You really stink!" and threw her on the trash. She wept soapy tears, and thought, this is as low as I can be. And she slithered to the ground, and crept away into a basket long thrown away. She slept, until she felt herself being carried along. The lid opened, and a magician looked in.

"Oh, what a beautiful golden snake, with red bands, you will be in my show!" For she had become a magnificent snake. He would play a flute, and she would dance joyfully, and people gave them coins.

Until one day, he grabbed her too hard, hurting her tender spine, and before she knew what she was doing, she bit the magician. He screamed, "You ungrateful snake!" and tried to grab her again, but she slipped out. He came after her, stomping, "Come back here, I'm going to kill you!"

But just as his foot came down, she was suddenly so small, she slipped down into a tiny crack, and into a dark tunnel. Her feelers touched stone walls, and her many legs felt sand as she skittered down, down, down. An ant, she thought, now I'm an ant.

She stopped, rested, and listened to the deep silence underneath everything. A slow voice spoke to her.

"Oh, little one, you don't know what you are. Reach down, I've made you a jewel for you to carry, for it will help you sing like a bird, nourish you like a cow, clean you like a sponge, dance with joy like a charmed snake, and make a home like an ant." So, she reached down with her fingers, and a found a smooth stone that fit perfectly into her hand. She put it in her pocket, and walked along the road, until she came to a little clearing with a tiny shack and a neglected garden. There was good old cheese and honey in the cupboard, and clear water from the well.

One day, she decided to walk a bit further along the road. A haughty princess in a fine carriage stopped to stare at her. "Why do you sing so badly? You are as ugly as a toad!"

She looked down at herself, afraid she would be a green toad, but she found the stone in her pocket, and knew she was just herself. The princess, in all her fine clothes, was the toad, hopping away, croaking in her finery.

She walked a little further down the road, and a fine young knight on a shining horse overtook her. "Well, my pretty young girl, I shall give you a ride!" he said, and swung down gracefully to take her hand. But she held the stone, and his face grew long, and tall ears sprouted.

"No, sir, I am glad to walk." she said.

His face grew dark with fury, and he brayed at her "Don't be stubborn, I can make you a great lady, with wealth and lace, you stubborn ass!"

But she was already well down the road, when he ran off on four legs, his horse following sadly.

Well, she thought, that was a close one. She heard the sounds of an axe, and around the corner, a plain young man broke kindling for a small fire with a pot bubbling. She held the stone, and if anything, he seemed plainer and more human, with a warm smile, and dark eyes like hers.

"Oh, hello, " he said. "Would you like to share my soup? It's not very good, but it'll fill you up." So, she pulled out her bread, and together they ate, and talked. She held the magic stone the whole time, watching him, but he stayed exactly the same. The soup wasn't very good, but neither of them minded.

"You know, your hair is dark, but it's also golden, with a bit of red in the sun," he said. And she realized she really was beautiful.

She would spend the rest of her life singing when she was working, dancing when she was happy, scrubbed clean in the evening, and when they cooked together, everything tasted wonderful.

Praying

Mantidae Mantis religiosa. My young Mantis friend visited my arm last evening as I sat out on the porch reading. This is the third time I've been blessed with one of these characters. I talk to them, make sure they feel welcome, gently place them safely when I need to leave.

Got through the annual Safety Training Day, they were remarkably well organized, no groups bunching up while others lingered. It was boring, but not belabored. Home by 1300. New manager participated with us. OR staff are all behaving like bullied & abused children, a bit unruly once given a bit of respite, acting out, testing limits then flinching, expecting to be hit again. New manager has a job ahead of her, we are all so wary, so much pent up frustration, so distrustful. Various people barging into the power gap, trying to boss others around. So many neglected problems we weren't allowed to fix, clutching long nailed fingers at the edges of the door, scrabbling to get through first. Like a nightmare, one of those dull, vaguely horrifying nightmares.


Needed to feel competent and useful once I got home. So, we got a couple of strips of the grass paper up. Took a bit of thinking, but once we got to the sticking place, all went well. Still have trimming at the edges. We're not covering all the walls, that would look a bit tacky. just a few strips down each wall, give it light and texture, and not add so much paint. A long project, with stripping the door and window frames, finishing the wood, paint, and planning some sort of decorative edging tape for the grass-paper, give it framing since the edges are a bit raw. Such a wonderful aroma, fresh cut grass.



VERY not finished. The photos do not do it justice, it really warms and brightens the room, covers the badly patched area of wall. And, no, it's not supposed to match.

I remembered, sitting out in the garden, that I once had a job watering a professor's garden for a couple of weeks. It was fairly extensive, with a lot of rare plants (so he told me) and a complex method of turning on various sprinkler systems for X amount of time. This was when I was always looking to add a little casual cash to my meagre income. Not an especially pretty garden, I thought. What I would likely consider landscaping these days. Nothing wrong with landscaping, it's just not a garden. First time he was on vacation, I faithfully followed instructions, got paid, and never really wanted to return. Too much water wasted in a drought, I thought, in a desert. Plant cactus, I thought.

The next time he called me to water, I resisted. My life was unraveling, the divorce imminent, but he pressed, offered more pay, and I was too distracted to say NO directly. I watered a few of the days, and largely blew him off, and damn his precious imports, to his anger. Not that I cared. Nor did I go back for the money, which seemed fair to me. I'd failed him, but I didn't get paid either. In survival mode, my sin was in agreeing, when I didn't even have enough capacity to clearly refuse.

Caring can only be done, can't pay anyone else to do your caring for you.


And always make it easy for people to say "no."


Be kind to mantis younglings, too.

Transformation

Yeah, attentiveness grows.

Comparisons

Yup, that was a helluva hedge.

Cats remain on good terms.



We'd worried a bit that Moby had simply conceded the bed as Her Territory. He's been wary of her for a good while. But that seems to be waning at the moment, this week anyway. As with all relationships, sometimes are better than others.

Big, black clouds lingering on horizons. The last remnant of a Baja hurricane dosed us rather well, hopefully this one will bring rain to the gardens also.

Coming to think that I just can't be fearful of the lingering evil-manager. Wary, careful, sure. But fear is not conducive to peace of mind and clear thinking. Such an easy trap, but not a useful response.




The bright fuschia confuses the camera.



This remind anyone else of a certain tower?






Maybe it's just me.


Got the postcard, put it in the window. There will be a sign, this just arrived in the post.

Buckwheat

Buckwheat seeds.

Went to bed last night thinking I needed to do something, and I had a list, certainly. Not until morning did I remember, the car inspection is due this month, and I do not wait until the last week. So, swallowing tea along with my disappointment, I threw on clothes and got there just as they opened. Sadly, one of my brakes is not working properly, probably just needs adjustment. Scheduled an appointment Saturday at the usual shop. At least emissions were fine.

Lightly sanded and thoroughly cleaned the wall, marked lines, hooked up the plumb, will mix paste and lay wallpaper maybe Friday, with help. Not about to do this alone.

Not getting to the compost today, left that for the weekend. Both cats got their outside time, Moby greeted and politely saw two dogs off his patch. An a woman from Cuba, apologizing for her English, petted Moby, and after a conversation about her dog and cat, got a big hug from me. Some people are fine to hug.

Thinned out the sunflowers, ruthlessly. California poppies starting to bloom. So much color. A tiny black spider making itself at home. And the perennial flower planted last year, that seemed to die, returned - looking lush and hardy.



And the hedge is taking shape. Looking thin, but it will green up in it's own time.

Politics

Have not met, but keep hearing very good news about the new manager. Evil Manager is not out of my chain of command quite yet, so I'm told, but she won't be directly involved, and is planning to retire (no, she's not old) in about a year. So, keeping my head down, but harboring a small amount of hope. Still imagining her getting arrested, it helps.


I was pretty sure, or I wouldn't have mentioned it here, but not entirely certain I was in the Garden Tour. So I sent an email, got a reply back, and yes, officially on display a week from Saturday. Sent photos and description as well as the haiku.

Anyone know about bitters? There is a local guy brewing bitters, going to be at the Downtown Farmer's Market which opens this weekend. We will, of course, be there.

Last Sunday was the local Pride Festival Parade. Very local, we walk over the few blocks to the parade. Much larger this year, and after the earlier desperation with underlying tension, followed by last year's elation and palpable and emotional relief, this year was more relaxed. Same preponderance of corporate sponsorship stepped up, with a fair amount of swag, coupons and beads and even bags. A Sikh group were handing out bananas. One young man took a small bunch with so much joy, and Minion-level exuberance, bouncily taking them to friends across the street. We politely declined, neither of us wanting, nor in need of, bananas, and felt any lesser response after that would be nearly an insult.

Our preferred mayoral candidate was shaking hands along the route with a rainbow feathered boa around his neck. He looked quite fetching. Not the one with the sign on our lawn, that is another candidate better-than-incumbent. She was in our state legislature, at the time the only openly gay woman on the hill, so she was marching with a group in her candidate colors. Well, we've been attending our Neighborhood Council meetings, getting involved. Last one we got to hear them all speak. Old incumbent looks like a slightly more alive version of Keith Richards. The sort to do stuff, then wonder why no one likes his brilliant surprize solution. Another candidate seems to be running mostly to support our Preferred Candidate, and to say "fuck that guy" to the incumbent.

The local guys who fought for the Marriage Equality issue, run a stand, and got married at, the Downtown Farmer's Market. There was a float from the DFM, rather nice one. A few creatively dressed bagpipers, which makes any parade worthwhile for us. A lovely clear, coolish day, so we saw more of the parade than formerly. I realized I should have brought the camera, old habits, though. I tend not to, out of not wanting to cause discomfort. Really have to get over that, no longer appropriate.


Moby and Eleanor have been sleeping on our bed, for the first time in a very, very long time. Together. Even at night, with both of us there as well.

Lassitude

Started out too early, with a deep lassitude that grew into post-problem anxiety. Didn't wanna do... any number of things. Kept trying, to disappointing effect. This is so typical of me, to get through the crisis, but once it's over, fall to crumbles. The Evil Manager seemed to have cleared her office yesterday, as I managed to avoid her all day long. Still not completely certain she is gone for good, with the new manager in complete authority, but it seems to be the end.

No good yard sales, and too few to bother with. The one two houses down was one of those where the people thought they would get a good portion of the original price back. Yard sales do not work this way. A used spa robe, however nice, will not go for $10 in this situation. For $3, maybe. Even then, more like $1. They did not understand the concept of Getting Rid of Stuff, and so they still have most of it. I did not educate them. Not my job. It's not getting what it's worth, it's getting what random people stopping by will give them for it.

We did make ourselves a good lunch, jalapeño burgers with guacamole. As the day wore on, my stammer worsened, and my energy drained completely. So, I made myself a very strong pot of tea, and got a single can of beer. By the time the first one took effect, I started to strip the door frames, in preparation for applying the grass cloth wall paper we scored in last week's yard sale extravaganza. Don't want to put the wall cover up, then scrape the paint right next to it.

Made amazing progress. D and I still puzzling over the choice of OD green paint with battleship grey trim.

"I diagnose a bad case of designers."

"Or design magazines."

"At any rate, way too much 'taste.'"

"And not good taste. Bad taste. Chewing on aspirin taste."

This got D laughing.



After most of the clean up, Eleanor came in to supervise.


Heard a power tool as we ate dinner. Neighbor of the Hedge had a friend with a power saw taking out the big trunks of the hedge. He's decided he wants it lower as well. So we can both keep it trimmed, without needing ladders. I lend a hand, and encourage his friend, and tenant, in the gutting of my Nemesis- the Hedge.

His cat, Sebastian, came out to watch the clean up.



Feeling so much better this evening. Quite back to even.

Gradual

Story this week about a family yelling at a high school graduation ceremony, cited for some version of disorderly conduct/disturbing the peace. Now, I don't know what actually happened, if the school officials overreacted, if they were actually making themselves obnoxious, or something between. My personal experience of ceremony makes me side with order over chaos. I'll completely buy that the family (for a niece, even) were making asses of themselves.

I'd been to my older brothers' HS graduations. Catholic schools, so the ceremony was in church. Not a mass, but with an intention of solemnity. I was small when Dave graduated, a bit older for Bill, it all seemed rather tedious, but I loved their dark purple gowns and the tassels. Seemed to take forever for their names to be called, in order of class ranking. Both wore National Honor Society* stoles.

My last year of hs, we had a new principal who bullied and harassed us, threatening to not let us "walk down the aisle" to attend graduation, if we didn't do what she wanted, or stop doing what she didn't. I went so far as to scribble out her name in my senior year book. My mother told me I'd regret it, which still hasn't happened. I didn't personally care that much, either way, about the ritual. I knew my parents valued that ceremony, as I appreciated the cost of my education, and felt they deserved that day. Not like I had any choice in the matter, among the many duties assigned by presumption.

My mother kept pressing me to let her buy some of the graduation tat, I held out against the embossed cards and announcements, but gave in on a small order of the photos and the cheapest of the rings, without engraving. When the class ring had a weird flaw, miscast and out of round, she wanted to send it back, but I refused, it made it unique. She hadn't made it through high school, my father only got to about 6th grade, so I sorta got that I was succeeding for them, but they wanted to waste money on something I'd taken for granted. Of course I would graduate high school.

I did keep my tassel, which I loved. Long lost now, in a car that was stolen.

The gowns, when we were allowed to see them, were not purple, but 'gold' - a shiny mustardy yellow. Hideous. Had to buy a dress for the occasion, although why is beyond me because it wasn't visible. My friends were pretty much in the same state of mind, rolling our eyes about the fuss, planning quiet, in-joke pranks. We processed in, sat down, and started passing notes to each other. We were in the first pews, eager to be done with it, but doing right by our families.

As the process continued, various photographers, probably not any professionals, more like family friends pretending to be, barged to the front. They were not subtle.

My name was missed for the NHS*. As our names were read out to receive our diploma, I watched the nine people in front of me pulled in for a hug from the detested principal. When I approached her, took diploma, shook her hand and said, "You missed my name for the National Honor Society" watched her eyes go wide, and walked back to my seat. To this day, I wonder that I was able to pull that off, but the part of my brain that can tell off a surgeon when he's wrong apparently existed even then. Still proud of that moment. I didn't really care for myself, but my parents listened for that honor, they set great store by it. Plus, kept me from having to hug the silly nun.

As we waited for the rest of the 136 people in our class to progress, the photographers and pushy families got worse, one even falling into the students in the front pew, crowding around the altar, families shouting over other kids names being called. We kept looking at each other, unable to respond, the principal and teachers doing nothing. Never wanted to attend any ceremony ever again, especially graduation.

No option was given when I 'graduated' basic training. Dress uniform, bad shoes, cold morning, standing to attention through excruciating ceremony, at least it was organized. Oh, my yes. Managed to skip any further military graduations. When it came to nursing school, I scheduled a working shift that day, to the aghast objections of many of my class, especially the younger ones. Especially the 'A' chasing students. Never even considered attending. Never regretted it for a moment. I had my knowledge, the paper, the license, what else did I need?

What I learned that day in 1980 is that large ceremonies leave me empty. And that my vaunted brothers were never the students I was, although I think I missed the significance back then.

Attending D's college graduation eleven years ago, was fine, though, because he wanted it, earned it, deserved the chance to be proud. Summa Cum Laude.

Perennial

So, community garden guy stopped by today, gave him the tour, he called it a great example of Permaculture. So, I guess I'm in? There will be further emails. I'll need to provide photos. Oh, my, how will I do that. And a short description, I'm thinking I'll do it in haiku. Sign some forms to remove liability. And provide a cooler for water they will supply. This is somewhat bothersome, since it will no doubt be plastic bottled water, but not much I can do. They will bring a sign a day or two before to indicate it as a Tour Garden. And I make myself available to chat from 10-1400. Oh, my, have to talk gardening with gardeners, how will I cope.

And yes, this is a largely perennial or self seeding garden, mostly drought tolerant and low water use. And as much as I sometimes wished for a bucketful of money to hire landscapers to just come in and make it so, I'm glad that was never an option. They would never have imagined anything like this. Rather like wanting a cleaning service to come in and make the house sparkle, but not really. I'm much more satisfied with my own work. The job really isn't all about the external result, but the change in myself, with every task, every little success.

Still, a truckload of good topsoil and strong young folks to spread it, doing what I can't, that would be wonderful. Still.



How's this?


Plastic netted dead
sod, weedy, pottery dirt,
Grown into garden.

Sunflowers healing,
Worms return, green onions bloom,
Buckwheat, flax and mints.

Thyme balm, lavender
Clover, grasses wild with joy,
Settling in for years.

Flaxen

Just the flax, ma'am.



Picked up a lovely pair of enameled, articulated fish earrings on Saturday at a yard sale. Can't get a decent photo of 'em. At work today, I realized one had vanished. After the case in the room where I likely lost it, I got down on the floor, eye level in the approved "finding the lost suture needle" posture. Didn't find it, but about to walk out, I spotted it near the door, rather flatter. I presume it got caught under a wheel. It's still pretty, if rather flat. Call it a haddock. Everyone got involved in my earring loss.

At that yardsale were 5 rolls of a sort of grasscloth wall covering, which is precisely what I was looking at for the bedroom. Should cover a lot of unevenness, and the OD green paint as well. Even if it only covers two walls, it makes a huge difference. Now, I just need to get a good carpet knife, wallpaper paste, and learn how to apply it. Still, $3 to cover the essential material, that's pretty good.

Locking

Poor bridge, I hope it feels better very soon. What a trashy and ill conceived fad, a lock as a love symbol. Vandalism, more like. Ownership, not love. At least the folks removing the mess are planning on recycling the metal. All 45 tons of it. Sheesh.

Getting anxious about the garden tour. No idea if what I have out there is as wonderful as it feels to me, looking at it with an objective eye, and I just don't know. Wondering if I'm wasting the poor garden guy's time, really.

But.

It really is lovely out there, and a sunflower is maybe a week or so from blooming. By the 20th, there should be more. The scarlet flax just keeps on spitting up flowers. Let it speak for itself, as I stand back.