Every day is a yellow day
I'm blinded by the daisies in your yard
Ah, Prince. You never know when you'll find a relevant lyric. (In this case, "Condition of the Heart": Paisley Park, 1985)
Did you listen to "Turn up the Night" last night? If you did, you may have heard from dear Raine how increasingly difficult it's becoming to keep things together, as it were, and provide a daily, nutritionally-complete blog.
Today Isn't about any of that - how about some venting? Or pushing the reset button?
I'm just back from Russell's Garden Center
. The weather has finally broken here in New England, and it appears that spring has finally sprung. We had some violent thunderstorms last night that seemed to signal the seasonal shift at long last.
Now, I have a small garden. There's a few herbs, some lettuce, tomatoes, the usual city-dweller stuff. I also have a small patch out front that I've been putting flowers in for a while, too.
I know what I'm doing with vegetables. But when flowers are involved....I couldn't tell you the slightest difference between a Fibrous Coelacanth, , Agitating Australopithecus, or a Helichrysum Accent. Usually my only requirements are that it look nice, and it must be purple.
I'll be out scrumming in the dirt after lunch - it's a very visceral thing, and in this day and age, perhaps a necessary re-connection to our literal roots.
And it is a lovely Saturday, so I'll do my other thing. Firing up the grill tonight for some tri-tip steaks...then the firepit too, for some martinis and a Churchill.
The news is never-ending. There will almost certainly be an agitation or atrocity from Washington before I can turn over one spadeful of dirt today.
But that can wait.(Not mine - but about the amount of space I have to work with today.)