Thursday

The clouds have finally lifted. Strange for us here in Colorado to have so much rain -- but then again, it was snowing in the mountains yesterday. I swear I saw a couple of flakes down here, too (6250 ft elevation).

The plants are still alive...shoot, they look as if they're going to take over the house any second! The Harison's Yellow Rose is still going strong, as is a mystery rose whose parent slip was originally found in Denver's Fairmount Cemetary. I just found a great book at the library's secondhand sale: Penelope Hobhouse's Story of Gardening. (In hardback, no less, for a $2 bill.) So far, I'm traveling through Pompeii, admiring marble columns and lemon bushes, but heading slowly toward the Colonial landscape.

Beans are going in today, bordering the day lilies and planted in a clump under one of the Eiffel Tower-shaped wire sculptures. (I am a sucker for this shape, though it doesn't always stand up under our 40 mph-plus winds.) Yes, I know -- I'm late getting the garden in. That's what happens when you spend a week teaching in North Carolina.

Meredith at Like Merchant Ships has people posting their favorite blogs today...I found Willow Manor (wonderful if you are fond of poetry in everyday life). She begins with a great photo, and this quote from Boris Pasternak:

Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle,
Cracked ice crunching in pails,
The night that numbs the leaf,
The duel of two nightingales,
The sweet pea that has run wild,
Creation's tears in shoulder blades...

Oh my.

Off to weed -- and edit -- and ponder.