Certainly there were other things that needed doing and I even did a few of them, but it was just too nice a day to stay indoors. Walking through the house, I'd find myself making a sharp turn through any door for a quick getaway. Bess was in full agreement and right behind me. It's never a case of what to do, it's where to begin at this time of year. Weeds sprout up here, there, and everywhere. On one excursion, I got a small start on the crop in the rock garden. Later, I became obsessed with a patch behind the junipers on the left and cleared the entire area, carrying a big armload of the intruders away. Bessie Anne is a self-appointed time keeper. She stays with me, moving from sun to shade, and prefers to lie on freshly exposed, cool dirt. When she decides I've worked long enough (about the time I start to feel it in my back), she plants herself in front of my feet and won't move away. Who am I to argue with an official? It takes some scrubbing to get the dirt from under nails and off hands. It's good clean dirt and a good excuse to be outside.
The beautiful, lush peony blossoms are such showoffs. They certainly last longer than the lilacs that are quickly fading, glorious as they were. The two plants from last year showed such promise, and I still have hopes for the smaller. The larger had one big bud, the little one has two. "Had" is the definitive term. Some dastardly beast chomped the one bud clean off. Either peonies taste nasty or said beast is waiting for the buds to ripen. Since the new plant has not been touched, I'm thinking the flavor is off.
Getting down and dirty in the yard beats dusting any day.
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