See this pixie grin on my face? I am gleeful at having bought $75 worth of gardening books. You're aghast, I can tell. Sure, I have lots of books on gardening already, but they're more in the way of flower and plant identification. These are on practical gardening with lots of photos and short explanations of how to do things. And it didn't come out of my pocket, either. I spent the last of my free Barnes & Noble gift certificates. So they're guilt-free gardening books. I'm tremendously pleased with myself.
I'm lots better, too. I worked all day without feeling like I was going to collapse. I am industriously doing nothing in my free time, as I wish to continue this trend towards wellness. I'm way behind on web diaries. I have no clue what's happening with anyone. I'm too busy reading books, something portable that goes with me from train to lunch hour to sofa to bed. I've finished Bridget Jones: the edge of reason, a sequel to Bridget Jones' Diary. Verdict: amusing enough but lacks the giddy verve of the first book, sounds a great many brittle and false notes, and steals charmlessly from Austen's Persuasion. I've polished off a bunch of comics, the most recent Tony Hillerman, the second Harry Potter novel, reread a Lindsey Davis paperback which I finally replaced after admitting I have no idea where it's packed, and started on the third Harry Potter.
I'm doing some thinking about where everything will go in the new house, and I can't figure out where to put our furniture. Nothing suggests itself. The place is so small, how will we fit 1400 square feet of stuff into 940 square feet? We've got a bed, three armchairs, a loveseat sofa, a dining table, a recliner, two chest of drawers, two desks, three small tables, and ten bookshelves. Many books will be packed up for good, or at least years. The china will have to be stored; I don't own anything to display it in, and we use our stoneware for daily use. I've got heaps of art pottery and two wall-mounted shelves for them, but I don't know if I dare trust the lathe and plaster walls of our new house to something that heavy. I can't even count the number of framed paintings we own. It's going to be like solving a puzzle. I try not to think too hard about it. I spend a lot of time planning the garden instead.
The violas are really going to town now. I transplanted them right after taking this photo. My red astilbe are free to thrust upwards into the light. They're not actually visible, so I am exercising patience and crossing my fingers that I didn't plant them upside down or anything last autumn. I have put the ixia in a container, so they're organized. Can't wait to see what color they turn out. I think it's a mixed bunch. I am sure they'll turn out to be pink, though. It's always my luck. Perhaps I'll end up embracing pinkness, and devote an entire section of my new garden to shades of pink.
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