Fall Full Harvest Moon
Three lily beds planted, topped with a serving of tiny yellow daffodil bulbs. I realized today that planting bulbs in the metaphoric equivalent of maturity. Putting lily corms in the ground in autumn to produce flowers in June, July and August of 2011 defines delayed gratification. So. There. In spite of my personal measure of maturity–did I get a napkin the first time I went through the line–I seem have passed a different test. Gotta make it before I hit 65.
Kona helped. She chased down marauding chipmunks and rodney danger squirrel.
Kate’s off at work, each evening a chip closer to retirement. I’m about to head on the treadmill for a late work out. Watching Ghost Writer now. Pretty good.
