Better

After a bad start, yesterday became a heart-warming parade of gifts including great advice, a jamboree bag of pretty rocks, incense, new age mineral/flower third-eye opening brandy substitute and a curious supply of shrubs from ancient Earth Goddess, Nora next door. I have accepted most of her offers out of a complete inability to say no. One of them is honeysuckle, a favourite of mine.

It's not my birthday. I have no idea why all this luscious earthing stuff has turned up, but it's rather lovely.

Night into morning is a good time.

Sleep well, you!

Plant drivel

I am looking forward to shopping and Japanese food tonight.

I am looking forward to my project at the weekend.

I am not looking forward to 4 more hours of mind-numbing work. So I will think about something else.

A few weeks ago, I created a twee little corner of dainty herblings, including chamomile and mint, thyme and rosemary, myrtle and lavender and sage. My criteria were scent, story and prettiness.

I only bought the fennel plant because there are so many magical myths about it, from Prometheus using it to bring fire to man, to its rep as all round repeller of evil. Well, it has repaid my ignorance by quadrupling in size in a couple of weeks, the mint is some kind of vegetable Napoleon, and the sage clearly has delusions of shrubbery. In fact, everything is rampantly flourishing and I'm a bit stunned. I consider myself a successful gardener if a plant sits in the soil without falling over. I'm so relieved not to kill the thing, the option that it might actually get bigger never occurs to me. Now they're all growing with such maniacal fervour I suspect I should dowse for organon flows/landed asteroids/buried corpses.

Maybe I should move them around, give them a bit more space before they're at each others' throats/stems/whatever, and the garden turns into Battle of the Halji.

That's the thing about life; it's a bit, well, keen, isn't it?