Thursday, May 04, 2006

Eighty degrees

It's nearly impossible to stay indoors in this weather. The air is too fragrant, too warm. Everything is growing so fast that it changes on a daily basis and begs to be appreciated.

The lambs. The figs. The growing tomato plants and peppers. The roses which refuse to open with the exception of Therese Bugnet. The blackberries which sprout up everywhere and bite my fingers when I pull them out by the roots. Blackberries will eat us alive in Oregon if we aren't vigilant.

Then there is my trusty assistant, Hermanito, who pesters me all day long to lie down on the floor with him and tickle and pet and cuddle him in all the approved ways. If you dont do it perfectly you will get the wrath of his razor claws. Otherwise he's a pussycat.

These are beautiful, dont you think? Common little weeds. But so precious.

border=We brought these irises with us from our old house in Orenco. They are a rather ugly variety but they emit a powerful scent of grape kool-aid which everyone who experiences them agrees is miraculous. Beside that they were given to me by Mrs. Sharp who passed away this winter and so they remind me of her and all the loaves of bread of pies she used to send over when John and I were working late into the night preparing for the next art fair. Her name was Dorothy and she was a great role model for me. She excelled in all the old skills; sewing, baking and child rearing. She could butcher a hog and make laundry soap out of it as well as food for the table. Her stories of the "hard times" were a vivid contrast to the easy lives we live today.

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