garden
Jeeves,’ I said.
‘Sir?’ said Jeeves. He had been clearing away the breakfast things, but at the sound of the young master’s voice cheesed it courteously.
“You were absolutely right about the weather. It is a juicy morning.”
‘Decidedly, sir.’
‘Spring and all that.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘In the spring, Jeeves, a livelier iris gleams upon the burnished dove.’
‘So I have been informed, sir.’
‘Right ho! Then bring me my whangee, my yellowest shoes, and the old green Homburg. I’m going into the Park to do pastoral dances.
My first job downstairs is to open the back door and get a big breath of fresh air - rain or shine, winter or summer - I just copy the cats and dog, that’s what they do - that’s how the ‘read’ the day, nose up, what’s in the air? What smells different? Clear out the night-lungs. Start again. Meanwhile the kettle is boiling. I grind the beans. That smell of fresh ground beans. Oh wow! Then I am at the back door again, or in the yard, in my pyjamas and wellies, just with a little time to align myself with myself - and to align myself with this different, new day. It’s a little bit of Tao. –Jeanette Winterson: Mind Over Matter (Substack) - “Spring Equinox”. Hat tip to Austin Kleon.
Planted about 70 nasturtium seeds around the backyard. I’m very late getting them into dirt, but it’s a small investment for a possibly great payoff. (If they bloom, photos to follow in the next couple of months.)
Who knew tarragon flowers? Not I.
📷
Cosmos
“Floozy Tree,” more like. I love her.
Just a perfect day.
