This feature, originally known as Saturday Farmer's Market, was created by Heather at Capricious Reader, and then hosted by Chris at Stuff as Dreams are Made on.
It has been a rough week. I've pushed myself past the point I should, and am paying the price. (I know. Whine. Whine. Whine.)
We pulled up all the Lavender because it was beginning to smother itself and then replanted it. I had used the recommended spacing, but the plants grew bigger than they were supposed to. We also took the opportunity to lay down weed cloth. The bed looks severely ugly right now. Deformed plants that can't be pruned correctly until early spring with too much space between them, and exposed weed cloth looking raggedy. No garden prizes this year.
Eventually there will be inorganic mulch and the plants will be pruned properly and grow back in. Eventually.
Update on the neighbor's irrigation and our trees: Two weeks ago we told the renters. They told their landlords. Nothing happened. Our large Plum tree is looking worse. I finally called the water folks and they said that they will look into it and let me know what happens. For the sake of my trees, I hope they don't take too long.
I have some new pictures but I haven't gotten around to uploading and messing with them yet. Soon, I promise.
In the meantime . . .
here's a snap of some Pink Flamingos grazing among the Lantana.
- Kay Ryan
Wherever the flamingo goes,
she brings a city’s worthof furbelows. She seemsunnatural by nature—too vivid and peculiara structure to be pretty,and flexible to the pointof oddity. Perched onthose legs, anything she doesseems like an act. Descendingon her egg or draping her headalong her back, she’stoo exact and sinuousto convince an audienceshe’s serious. The natural elect,they think, would be less pink,less able to relax their necks,less flamboyant in general.They privately expect that it’s somepoorly jointed bland grey animalwith mitts for hands
whom God protects.
from: Flamingo Watching. Copyright 1994.