There are flower buds on my butterfly bush! And the swamp milkweed is just starting to flower–one bud has popped (it’s a compound flower head.) The male cardinal and the technicolor goldfinches are providing a riot of color
ID’d one of the weeds in the Bed of Evil as Daisy Fleabane. Not too worried about it. It’s a cheerful little plant, it isn’t hurting anybody, and anyway, I have the Lovecraftian honeysuckle to deal with yet, and if anyone survives the Great Spraying (come on, dry weather!) we can renegotiate later.
It’s a gorgeous day today, cool enough that I can open up the house and get a good breeze going, which is nice.
Spent yesterday out in Wilmington. That would have been better if anything was open on Sunday, and if we hadn’t gone in the middle of a scouring rainstorm, but it was still fun, and one of the places that was open had a barong mask of a style I didn’t yet have, so I had to add to the collection. Tried on a dozen hippie skirts. Sadly, everything that fit was hideous, and everything that was a color I loved didn’t fit. (Quoth Carlota, about the peach-and-cyan tie-dye: "It’s hideous. It actually works very well on you, but it’s still hideous, and no one should ever wear it.") The one wrap skirt that I loved did not wrap quite far enough, and a stiff breeze would have revealed to the world what sort of underwear I favor. (Quoth Carlota: "So wear interesting underwear, then!" I declined.)
Lots of "one size" skirts. Apparently that one size is "small." My god, people! Have you ever MET a hippie? I realize you’re hoping for delicate big-eyed waifs with waists the size of the daisies they’re wearing in their hair, but the majority that I know are a bit more "earth mother" and a bit less "Amy Brown." Give us tie-dye for women with child-bearing hips! I’m a gardener! I’m liberal! I grew up in Oregon! I will wear tie dye without shame if only you will give me the chance!
Ahem. I should be working or something.