Very close to home
Apr. 14th, 2003 03:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanI can't talk about what's happening in the world. But I know it's there.
In my temporarily safe local situation, Eric is home, and relationship angst is much reduced. I told him my cat-box saga and he insisted on taking me out to dinner. I was given a specific chance to object strenuously, but I couldn't. He called an hour or so after I got home again, having read Chapter 4 and got all the nuances. I must, must, must reread the plot synopsis before I go haring off into Chapter 5. I am not used to having such a detailed one, and I am sure it will sound very stupid, but I must.
I did try to print it out, but am being denied access to the printer. David had to devise something complicated and deceptive so that Sprint would print to the printer at all, and he's been engaged in extensive backup operations, so I hope that is all it is. I can read it on the screen, but I don't want to.
House sparrows are building a nest in the arbor vita outside my office window. It is 83 degrees. My cat decided it was too hot to go out. We'll both get our walks later in the cool of the evening. In the meantime, I'm watering the stuff that's coming up all over like mad. More pale yellow snow crocus, more winter aconite, many shoots of lily-of-the-valley, more scilla, more crocuses just poking out, more tulips, daylilies, the rosettes of beebalm and helenium and hyssop, more violet leaves, the first few crumpled small leaves of hollyhocks, looking deceptively like motherwort, which is one reason I don't like to pull up the motherwort.
The birds like the water a lot. It has really been very dry.
The white rose of York has long green leaf buds, still furled like little flags. I am a bit worried about the red rose of Lancaster: I think it may have been killed back to the rootstock, so we'll see what happens. Must prune. Argh. The Henry Kelsey has less-advanced leaves, but it has a huge and almost threatening presence, rather like a funnel cloud about to explode into action. I love it passionately. The little species roses will bloom first, but they are just putting out hesitant red leaf buds. No fools they. I haven't seen the wild geraniums yet, but have watered their tree stumps. (Having observed them in the wild, I planted my own in the decaying stumps of the four huge trees that, long before we bought this house, graced the northern line of the property. The geranium has been very happy there, but I always wonder if it will come back.)
The coral bells look much reduced and bedraggled. They really need both more sun and more water. Maybe I'll actually move them this year.
I need to go write Chapter 5, with or without benefit of plot synopsis.
Pamela
In my temporarily safe local situation, Eric is home, and relationship angst is much reduced. I told him my cat-box saga and he insisted on taking me out to dinner. I was given a specific chance to object strenuously, but I couldn't. He called an hour or so after I got home again, having read Chapter 4 and got all the nuances. I must, must, must reread the plot synopsis before I go haring off into Chapter 5. I am not used to having such a detailed one, and I am sure it will sound very stupid, but I must.
I did try to print it out, but am being denied access to the printer. David had to devise something complicated and deceptive so that Sprint would print to the printer at all, and he's been engaged in extensive backup operations, so I hope that is all it is. I can read it on the screen, but I don't want to.
House sparrows are building a nest in the arbor vita outside my office window. It is 83 degrees. My cat decided it was too hot to go out. We'll both get our walks later in the cool of the evening. In the meantime, I'm watering the stuff that's coming up all over like mad. More pale yellow snow crocus, more winter aconite, many shoots of lily-of-the-valley, more scilla, more crocuses just poking out, more tulips, daylilies, the rosettes of beebalm and helenium and hyssop, more violet leaves, the first few crumpled small leaves of hollyhocks, looking deceptively like motherwort, which is one reason I don't like to pull up the motherwort.
The birds like the water a lot. It has really been very dry.
The white rose of York has long green leaf buds, still furled like little flags. I am a bit worried about the red rose of Lancaster: I think it may have been killed back to the rootstock, so we'll see what happens. Must prune. Argh. The Henry Kelsey has less-advanced leaves, but it has a huge and almost threatening presence, rather like a funnel cloud about to explode into action. I love it passionately. The little species roses will bloom first, but they are just putting out hesitant red leaf buds. No fools they. I haven't seen the wild geraniums yet, but have watered their tree stumps. (Having observed them in the wild, I planted my own in the decaying stumps of the four huge trees that, long before we bought this house, graced the northern line of the property. The geranium has been very happy there, but I always wonder if it will come back.)
The coral bells look much reduced and bedraggled. They really need both more sun and more water. Maybe I'll actually move them this year.
I need to go write Chapter 5, with or without benefit of plot synopsis.
Pamela
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
White Rose; Red Rose
Date: 2003-04-15 06:06 am (UTC)Re: White Rose; Red Rose
Date: 2003-04-15 01:02 pm (UTC)I must, politics and history aside, confess to a preference for the white rose. It's prettier. But the red rose is very much steeped in history, being also known as the Apothecary's Rose.
It seems to prefer a milder climate, though. Those Yorks came from the north and were tough.
Pamela
Re: White Rose; Red Rose
Date: 2003-04-15 01:06 pm (UTC)I have finally figured out, after it niggling me for ages, what your userpic reminds me of. It's the white beds in Possession.
Re: White Rose; Red Rose
Date: 2003-04-15 01:28 pm (UTC)It's a chalk-fronted corporal (a type, obviously, of dragonfly) sitting on my hat, from which it would make periodic forays to snap up biting flies and mosquitoes before they could get me.
Pamela
Re: White Rose; Red Rose
Date: 2003-04-16 07:09 am (UTC)