Rainy Day & Language Lessons

Which is just what the garden needs.  The red shoots are peonies with their loopy cages dancing overhead. The daffodils are standing tall next to the already bloomed out hyacinth.  All the brown is recently weeded area.  Yes, I did that.  And I tossed all the weeds (mostly grasses) out into the area around the vernal pool. Some of it "takes" and grows.

I have been trolling the internet for garden construction ideas (for a class I want to add to the line up).  I found a shade lath house on the Martha Stewart site and (duh!) finally figured out how to get "print ready" documents.  I also printed out two terrarium to do's and a plant stick craft.  Now I need maple branches.  Wish I had had that plant stick craft last weekend for my class.  They would have LOVED it.  Instead I made cutworm collars from cereal boxes. Also, fun and worthwhile but not as cute as the sticks.

Last night, while watching DWTS, I realized today was a day off and I could indulge in Farty Cereal for my breakfast.  That thought made me deliriously happy.  Not the farting.  That isn't all that wonderful but the cereal is very good.  And I plan to go to the grocery store for fresh pineapple to eat with my yogurt.  And the library for books to read.  I think one on yoga, one on gardening and one mystery.  I hope I can get in and out without embarrassing myself.

Yesterday at work, the French Teacher stopped and chatted with me regarding vegetable gardening.  The French Teacher is beautiful, blonde (30's) and rude in a way only the French have perfected.  The last time I was helping her, a young MALE coworker walked by and she waved me off with her hand and cooed to him "help me, please?".  Oh, yes, indeed.  Yesterday we were alone and shared gardening tips and I promised her a recipe for pickles.  She shared by mentioning that she ate 3 cabbages a week (cole slaw).  Could that be how she stays so slim?  Who knows.  

I also helped some other foreigners.  There are many, many very wealthy people living in Maine for the spring and summer (or perhaps all year) who have few, if any, English language skills.  They migrate my way because of my talent for not speaking any foreign languages but giving the impression that I do, indeed, understand them.  Oddly enough, they are correct.  Yesterday I think we were doing Spanish or another romance language.  Last week, Greek.  The Germans are easiest as that is the language I almost, actually, understand.  But the French.  oo, la, la.  You know I love it!  Give me a tall French guy of a certain age to chat with regarding gardening?  Yes, please.

Two summers ago I had a fascinating half hour with a lovely Spanish woman with the Barcelona lisp wearing a silk slip dress with tiny threadlike straps and, my guess, absolutely no undies.  We were buying sweet red peppers for our vegetable garden.  The loader boys didn't know what to do with themselves.

On that note: I am getting dressed (with undies and a rain jacket), going forth into the rain.