That's pretty much the modus operandus that
governs the gardening done at That Old House.
|Would it be a good idea to cut down our big lilac to get|
better pictures of our house for my blog? Probably not.
Despite the slap-dash care in the garden, today daughter Anne
harvested these from our 5 tomato plants:
She plopped them down on the oak table in the sunroom,
for the paparazza (that would be me) to enjoy.
And tonight, a pasta with fresh tomato sauce is on the dinner menu.
|Prepare to meet your Maker, ugly little|
tomato who is secretly delicious.
Okay . . . honestly?
I have absolutely nothing to blog about.
Zip. Zilch. Nada.
|Note to self: put away the garden hose|
before taking pictures of the porch.
I told you I had nothing to blog about.
I'm reduced to rambling about pretty much nothing.
So . . .
here's our front porch, with its
summer ferns a-swaying in the breezes.
I usually hang asparagus ferns, as they are not the fussy divas
that Boston ferns are. But this year, I could not find nice asparagus
ferns, so it's Boston. With their diva demands for water and haircuts.
Boston ferns are not down with the whole benign neglect thing.
More porch trivia: Howard likes to take a glass of his favorite
adult beverage, and a nice cigar, out to the porch,
and have some quiet time in one of the old rocking chairs.
There is an old stone crock on the porch.
Let's take a closer look.
Oh my stars and garters!
Who or what has been pooping in the old stone crock???
Oops. My mistake. It's not poop!
It's Howard's old butts.
I mean, cigar butts, of course.
Howard himself has only one old butt, and he is rather attached to it.
(With apologies to Eeyore's tail.)
Ah, poor house; no shutters except for a few of the first floor windows.
I am still in mourning for the lost shutters.
Ah well. Someday.
Where did this post begin? Oh, yes, with benign neglect.
Which is why I love Black Eyed Susans.
Benign neglect is their way of life.
Speaking of benign neglect, that's what I've been doing to this poor blog,
to my booth at the antiques mall, to my house . . .
and it's partly because I've been focused on our dog Dion,
who is in failing health. With adjustments in his medications
every few days, he is hanging in there for at least a little longer,
but he's getting very tired. We are preparing ourselves.
|Dion, a week ago, at the vet's.|
Still a cutie-pie.
Thank you, so many of you, for your very kind words and
your understanding, your good thoughts and prayers.
You are amazing, and much appreciated.
And about that booth at the antiques mall?
I'm doubling my space.
Yup, that's my new space, above. 9 X 12 instead of 6 X 9 feet.
But that's not my "stuff" in it -- that's the stuff from the
person who is vacating and moving to a still larger space.
And that's Howard, and his butt, inspecting.
You can see that I've been neglecting my own booth, above.
Not even very benignly. Wish me luck in the new space;
Anne and I go tomorrow to start setting it up.
I'm looking forward to having more room for furniture.
Craigslist, don't let me down!
Our heat wave has moderated to perfect summer weather;
I wish the same for you! -- Cass