CAT IN THE HAT

Wet Weekend

The rain has been teeming down today so when it paused for breath, I rushed out with the camera.



I love the combination of dandelions and Forget-Me-Nots. They're going to show up no matter what so I stand back and admire them.

The garden evolves each year and I do my best to help it along. I just wait for clues.



This giant rhubarb almost jumped into my arms on my final nursery visit for the season and I tucked it in by one of the composters. I think it's going to be a nice fit. The big guy is already beating his chest and it's only May.



The Bleeding Heart was a good sport when I moved her from the last house and parked her in what I thought was a compatible spot. She seemed pretty indifferent about her new location so last fall I moved her over to the boggiest part of the garden and I think she likes it there. I haven't seen this much enthusiasm from her in years.

They make me feel more like a caretaker than a gardener; they're like my kids--always happy to tell me what I should be doing next, as long as I do it their way.

Compost Time

This is one week's accumulation of cardboard. My system works very well--pull the stuff out of the garge and dump it in the warm hall to sort.

Then flatten, squish, organize and neatly prep for garbage day.

Sort of like my life. if I were to pop off today, and it isn't in my plans, I would like to be recycled.

My husband was recycled into a very public planter in a very public place.

Personally, I rather like the idea of my mountain-climbing son tossing my ashes off his favorite mountain top.

Trouble is, my mind is still twenty-five and the body certainly is not. I know how people's troubles will work out (hey, we're talking recycling and there are no new problems) and it's harder and harder to look surprised when I'm not.

Anyway, I love the idea of being recycled. Perhaps a teaspoon or two of ashes in my daughter's compost-er and the rest to the mountain top. On the other hand that might put her off her flowers for a day or two.