Disclaimer: This is not a Blog. This is a Blahg.
Let’s be clear, there’s a difference. Really. I am blahging ironically. It’s actually just a lot of blah blah about oldster gardening with the occasional political rant or personal reflection. Fortunately for my one and 3/4 or so readers, the rant segments have decreased proportionately to trump’s decline. Let’s hope it continues that way.
Sometimes bland and boring interludes can be good for mental health. Just to clarify. Thanks for not snoring too loudly.
And now back to our regular flowers and a cat.
I’ve packed up all my books (the majority of my possessions), revealing the intriguing cat-case (bookcase for cats), which Misu immediately claimed as her new throne. Once books are packed, it starts to hit home for me that this is no longer home. Maybe it never was.
Each day brings new flowers. The gladioli are starting to bloom, and the cutting garden presents new surprises daily. The front perennial bed is truly a cottage garden as intended, and the main veg bed-turned-flower garden makes the house look like it’s in a wildflower meadow. Peppers are starting to ripen. I’m glad I got to see all this before I’m gone.