5.28.13 Never leave the garden if possible. Even at night.
5.27.13 Today is perfect! weather-wise.
5.26.13 A Table by any other name...
5.24.13 Cold and rainy today but managed to put the entire garden in yesterday as well as mow the mile of grass and attempt to clean some pollen from electronics, etc. Nearly killed me- charlie horses in half a dozen muscles last night and joints frozen today. T. for all:
5.22.13 Drifts of the stuff:
5.21.13 Pollen snowstorm today.
5.18.13 It's white and blue time in the garden.
Annmarie is really being tortured by the abundant oak pollen this year but the trees are so beautiful- like giant flowers.
5.12.13 Onward T series with part no. 379:
5.11.13 No, we didn't die, just look/feel that way. Like George S. used to say, "You look like death eating a cracker". Never did quite understand that phrase. One warm day fixed us up and got the juices flowing again.
Worried about Sean. If you see this please leave a comment reassuring us.
Apple blossom time with dogwood, lilac and tulips is always one of the best weeks of the year. Optimistic birds cheer one up.
Lettuce, onions and radishes:
5.10.13 Sat at the bottom of some savage sea last week but have resurfaced, yet again, no wiser of course. Table 5.10.13:
5.3.13 Zeepo's new recording setup in TR:
5.2.13 It works.
4.30.13 While it's serious Spring outside this window it still looks like winter at Mt. Misery. Just a few miles south but dramatically different.
4.29.13 Like the broken bowls, inside, and outside too, but, by necessity, functioning in a ridiculous way, sometimes filled to the brim, runneth over even, then the empty, broken bowl and dust to eat. So many around me are brittle or shattered. L. trys hard but fears the empty moments and the truth there frightens the others who carry on in a trance; full bowl, full bowl. I guess it's been this way since some hominid understood that death was inevitable.