Crazy weather today. Temps were supposed to dip into the freezing range this morning, so last night I covered the plants we care more about (yes, there is a strict hierarchy) in anticipation of this. I don’t know that it really did freeze but it rained all night and the wind picked up with some 40 mph gusts, which wrought hell upon many of my ingenious plant protection devices. I went out to fix them today, but other than that I didn’t feel much like spending any time outside.
So follow along on a journey with me as you see how I spent my day instead, and learn why they call me Miss Excitement.
Meet one of my most prized possessions. My pruning shears. This is the first season I’ve used them extensively and until today I hadn’t given them a good thorough cleaning or ever tried to take them apart. (I’ve tried to clean them up before, to little effect. Apparently wishing really hard doesn’t help. You need steel wool.)
(I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that putting the pruners back together took a year or two off of my life. More issues with that screw that will not respond to any earthly screwdriver. It’s too traumatic for me to recall the details. But it’s back together now. It’s over. The nightmare is over…this time.)
Anyway, was that riveting or what? I hope your heart rates have all had a chance to return to normal by now. I probably should have put a warning on this entry.
So it was a good day for much-needed maintenance and for burying your face into the back of the couch.
And for making salsa. And salad. But which is which? Huh? Huh?
Meanwhile, here’s how it was outside. Look how the roses had to spend their day, dressed up in three different old bedsheets, like some chumps at a demented toga party. You’ll note the yarn pooled at their “feet.” Someone, I won’t say who, thought maybe she could further secure the sheets by tying the yarn midway up the height of the plant. “Flimsy yarn can totally stand up to gale force winds if it’s triple knotted!” she is reported to have thought.
The hostas, too, were forced to suffer the indignity of hiding under old kitty litter containers and Amazon boxes.