we ankled up the garbage sound
Music: Colder: Heat
. . . or as Ethel Merman once sang, everything is coming up roses, thanks to warm weather and my twice-a-day watering. The last week has been quite warm, dry, and cloudless, the temp overing around 100 with those crystal blue skies. The older rose bushes don't seem to mind, but the newer antique bushes I planted get droopy about two or three in the afternoon (even after I waste them with water in the a.m.). Gardening has to be done at night or early in the morning, because the outside heat can become pretty miserable after about ten minutes or so.
I mentioned that my favorite shop, Howard Nursery, is closing shop and that I was going to purchase something, but I never reported what I got. Here's my score: a squirty Lion head! How hawt is that? It weighs a ton and, brand new, is quite expensive, but they sold it to me for half price. His constant pittle reminds garden vistors of their urge to pee; I was wanting more of a burble sound, but Mr. Lion, he sounds like someone taking a whiz. I suppose that is fitting, although those readers who know me would agree the more appropriate sound is probably a hearty "plop plop."
Speaking of pittle, as I type this I am reminded the Tonys are on tonight for fifteen hours or something. That's a loaded sentence, but I won't unpack it since doing so—like watching awards shows in general—induces a yawn. And, in the key of excretion, I wrote a bit today and even managed to get to the library (god I hate that place; whoever designed UT's main library needs to be shot—it's all windowless, 70s catty-cornered architectural confusion zone, akin to Las Vegas casinos only instead of slots you find diagonal row after diagonal row of misshelved books arranged in counter-intuitive sequences, and instead of chain-smoking grannies you have clueless work studies that ask you, "have you checked the shelf?" when you report a book is missing). I won't besmirch this entry by detailing the paper, since I want to stay in the Rose Zone, so I need to escape from the library imaginary too . . . which brings me to this: I took a bunch of photos of my modest garden this morning and made a gallery! At dinner on Friday, the dean's wife remarked that she was impressed by the size of my peppers.