Category Archives: Uncategorized

It has been a very busy week–three choir rehersals (it's concert week) and eight doctor's appointments (ugh) and then a friend over yesterday to cook for her husband's surprise party, (the same friend who so kindly helped me with my garden path project last summer and somewhat less kindly documented the width of my behind during that work.)

The chili got made, and I had a chance to read "Could Be Worse" (twice) to two-year-old Joran, so you could count the day a success until my friend came back after leaving to inform me that she'd just locked herself out of her car. With Joran inside. Talk about nightmares. So she borrowed my car to dash home for the other keys while I endeavored to entertain Joran through the window. I did classic peek-a-boo, of course, both below the car door and behind a conveniently placed tree, walked my gloved hands up the window like curious worms that looked in and all around, sang songs, and made faces, but the hit was a rather Chaplinesque routine of pretending to fall in love with the tree–sidling up to it, coyly looking away, finally kissing it, and so on. He cracked up over that one. I don't know what the neighbors thought.

Fortunately, that was yesterday, not today, because as of five this morning we are having our first cold snap and our first real winter snow of the season. It’s currently -10°F (-23°C) outside, and 39°F in our bedroom. I’ve filed an application for sleeping in front of the fire, which has been accepted.

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We saved our votes for today, wanting the ceremony of the ballot. Also, it's the first time our younger son has been able to vote; we wanted to do it together. So we went to the polls together, all four of us, to cast our votes, and while no one was handing out ice-cream or coffee here in Montana as there were elsewhere–the coffee to convince cold voters to stick out the long lines, the ice-cream to reward them for doing so–still there was no real need for them, at least where we were.

Listening to NPR on the way to the polls, we heard that 98% of eligible voters in Michigan had registered. Ninety-eight percent. Amazing.

What a day, what a night, what a glorious, exciting time–Obama wins. I'm actually proud to be an American, for the first time in a long time. Throw your hats in the air, hug everyone in reach, and breathe deeply, sleep soundly; tomorrow will be a new day.

(I know this is late. I'm hoping it falls into the "Better late than never," category.)

Somewhere between Witless Bay and Come-by-Chance (the names in Newfoundland are not the least of its pleasures), I logged onto Blotanical and discovered that, miracle of miracles, my blog had been nominated for Best Organic Blog. It crossed my mind to ask Stuart if there’d been a mistake, but fearing he’d say “Yes,” I decided to savor the moment instead.

And then I got third place, better than I deserve, I suspect. Read all about the winners here.

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I ended my last post with the promise that I would get into the garden “tomorrow” with my camera so I could produce evidence of my essential, if not absolute, victory over bindweed.

And here it is, all of—yoiks, a week?—later, and no such evidence has been produced. In my defense, I will enter the following facts:

a) I am now in Newfoundland, Canada, travelling with husband Steve and both my parents, and have had little time to post, and

b) I did take the requisite picture(s), I just didn’t do anything relevant with them. (Lousy excuse, I know, but the best I could come up with on vacation.)

c) Posting during the day or so before I left (the day or so after the last post) was a physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, and political impossibility because I was packing, something at which I am terminally bad, and trying as well to get the garden ready for my two-week absence.

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Like so many things I get involved in, the brief sketch I planned for this spot has gotten completely out of hand. Rather than rein it in, which would take even more time, I’ll include it (below the spinach) but not ask it to do what it was originally intended to do, which was, to explain this photograph.

Yes, it’s true, that’s a white flag. I am ready to cease hostilities.

Yesterday morning I learned that I had won the limerick contest over at the Garden Monkey’s place. Thank you, Mr. Monkey, for choosing me out of that densely crowded and talented field. (Okay, moderately crowded. Or do I mean moderately dense? Hmm.)

My limericks were of course caustic attacks on James, my fellow dueler of the now intercontinental Sock Wars, which have swept up an increasing number of innocent bloggers, threatening the tranquility of their community. My prize is a signed copy of Gardeners’ World 101 – Bold and Beautiful Flowers, by one James Alexander-Sinclair. Yes, same James.

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