I’m glad for the open topic. I am feeling a bit over-structured lately. Been looking at older posts and realizing I’m losing my “zip.” Maybe life has just gotten too serious, but I definitely need my zippedy-doo-dah back!
Our house, while crumbling around the edges, is very comfortable. Years ago, we gave up fashion and went for soft furniture on which we can keep our (swelling) ankles up. The dogs like it too.
It is not fashionable. It wasn’t fashionable 20 years ago and we are not fashionable either, so it works. The dogs don’t know about fashion. As long as they can find a soft spot on which to sleep, life is good.
This reminds me of a very (VERY) old joke I first heard as a little kid, maybe five or six.
“A big elephant is big and a little elephant is small. A big fly is big and a little fly is small. Therefore, a big fly is bigger than a small elephant.” This was the ultimate definition of a syllogism, at least for a first grader.
So small. How small?
These are Native American fetishes — very small ones. I do have bigger ones, but you asked for small and small you are getting!
ALL of these fetishes will fit comfortably in one of my hands. They are absolutely guaranteed — SMALL.
When we moved into this house, there was one bedraggled Azalea trying to stay alive in front of the house. It never got any sun and it was too close to the foundation, so it didn’t grow and never bloomed.
This year, for the first time, it actually bloomed with more than a single flower. It’s not brilliant, as Azaleas go, but it has come a long way since we transplanted it. It’s a full-sized bush, even if it doesn’t produce a lot of flowers.
These flowers used to grow on the other side of the driveway. In the garden, in a grouping with the daffodils. I don’t know how they wound up on the opposite side of the tarmac.
Wind? Birds? Bees? The driveway is too wide for any kind of natural spreading, so something moved them.
The old Rhododendrons died, but new ones popped up and are blooming. We have to cut down the dead ones and are planning to on Wednesday. We also need to cut down the Holly which isn’t a bush and has become more of a tree. A big, bushy tree.
NOW we need rain and a lot of it. Maybe a solid week of rain would kill them before they get their tiny fangs into our trees.
It’s the only thing that will stop them. I get totally depressed even thinking about them. The last time they showed up, I hid in the house for weeks while they killed off all our trees. I’m trying to not see it, pretending it isn’t happening, but I’m terribly afraid that it is. And this time, I simply can’t afford to bring in the spraying people.
I’m not thinking about it because maybe it won’t happen. Talk about positive thinking, I actually think I’m more afraid of the caterpillars than Trump. That’s serious fear.