Christopher Marlowe sits waiting for his planting in the herb garden. I read, last night, that this is a rose's rightful place. Mine will sit near the dill heads and parsley.
Valiant. Beset by Japanese beetles all season, this rose continues to send out beautiful pink roses. The bush is now seven feet tall. I have lost the name of this Austen Rose over the nearly twenty years she has been in my garden. Perhaps, Elizabeth. When a plant is in the right place, it's magical.Work today was nothing. Hardly any customers and no truck delivery of plants. Four of us until noon and perhaps a handful of customers, then four more employees arrived. I had yogurt with peaches and raspberries for lunch and picked up Riley at 2:15. A very light and spotty rain is drizzling down. We were promised RAIN. We need RAIN. Tomorrow is the full moon.
I picked blackberries off my blackberry bushes. G kept saying I had none. I would have had more if the plants hadn't dried in the heat. We need to water the berries. Tomorrow's lunch will be peaches and blackberries with yogurt.
Tonight I am making mushroom pasta for dinner. G's favorite. I'm sleepy and it's only 3:45. I have the newest issue of Cloth, Paper, Scissors to look at (I no longer say "read" because I rarely am that interested in the text) and perhaps that will put me to sleep?
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