Spinach And Kale Give Us Paws…

On Sunday the weather was absolutely beautiful and today is supposed to be even better. We decided that it would be good day to get around to that garden that we were going to put in the front yard. The bug was very excited about planting stuff and even vowed to eat the spinach and kale we are growing. Of course she pointed out that that didn’t mean she was going to eat any other spinach or kale, just the ones we grow. So we tilled a little patch amongst the ivy and adjacent to the butterfly bush and did a little sowing…

So after we sowed the seed and sprinkled water to give it a good soaking, I was trimming the wild shoots that grow from the wild root of the “walking stick” tree (filbert). My next door neighbor has an old husky named Zeus and I like Zeus because Zeus is the only dog of the 16 within two house of me that doesn’t bark like a maniac and disturb our lovely springs and summers… and falls and winters. Zeus stays to himself and never visits but for some reason on this particular day, he wandered over and Sofia pet him for a bit. His owner came out on the porch and called him home and Zeus with his giant paws decided to take the shortcut home and walked right through our freshly planted plot. I was scrunched down under the filbert tree and had to simply watch as the big husky lumbered through the muddy surface…

I thought Sofia was going to have a conniption but I quickly assured her that the seeds didn’t care about the paw prints and everything went back to normal…

Our next mini-project was to plant this potato that the bug and I had started as our own little horticultural experiment in the kitchen a month or so ago…

Not sure whether it will survive as I’ve never done it before but I believe that she got the point.

It’s supposed to be 73 and sunny today and I was hoping to get a bike ride in but it’s a damn holiday, there’s a Louisville and Kentucky basketball game this afternoon and we’re having Mom’s parents over for dinner… and I need to get some work done too… and there’s this writing I’m doing right now. I just returned from the post office (hurray) and my usual eavesdropping revealed another conversation that left me wondering where people draw the line with small talk. The lovely woman behind the counter is always pleasant and seems a bit conservative to me… not politically conservative, just conservative. Anyway, one guy in line was a groundskeeper and the woman looked past him and asked me if I had any green on and I said, no… I’m not big on holidays. The guy looks at me and although he had a green cap on, said, I’m with you, and I usually tell people I have green underwear on. I was about to say that I might have some green scum on my back molars when the prim woman behind the counter says… yeah, maybe you just have a green skid mark in your underwear and then laughed heartily. I was a bit taken aback and realized that maybe I’ve got her pegged incorrectly. So onward and upward, here’s the bug with some of the Strawb3rry Sh0rtcake swag she got from the birthday party the day before…

The deco goes on and filed under “cant’ leave well enough alone” is this one…

Here’s a closeup…

I was really excited but after trying something a bit different, it left all these flecks of black that wouldn’t sponge away. It’s still possible that they will flake off in the bisque so I haven’t decided yet but definitely going up the learning curb. Have a good “snake shepherd” day.


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3 Responses to “Spinach And Kale Give Us Paws…”

  1. soubriquet Says:

    I can quite understand the whole wearing of the green if you’re Irish, and proud of it.
    However, I’m not Irish, and I’m quite happy to be not Irish. I’ve never had a moment’s dissatisfaction with not being Irish.

    And, to all those revellers out there, here’s a clue. If you weren’t born in Ireland, and have never been there, it’s almost certain you’re not Irish.

  2. Eugene Hon Says:

    Green with envy ! I wish I was Irish or something. Can’t trace my family heritage back far enough to know the whole story. Being white, neither Afrikaans and or English, means I am happily me. It would seem that the first Hon to come to South Africa was a stowaway on a ship. My name means well born – Eugene. Being gay does not help either. Bad genes some would say – all to do with Eugenics. Be proud of your heritage – at least you have one. I am African, even if many would not agree. If I am not, then there are not many options left. Just Be they say!

  3. Patricia Griffin Says:

    I’m totally Irish, but much more interested in the Strawberry Shortcake get-up. Now, THAT would be a great studio wardrobe for me. Quite a discussion starter when people visit!

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