I didn't leave the house yesterday, except to walk the dog in the morning and then work in the back garden. It was fabulous. I can't remember the last time I had a day like that.
I got our three cow parsley plants into the ground, as well as a few primroses that I bought in the spring for a hanging basket and that have now gone to seed. I'm hoping they'll take root and come up next year. I see all those wild primroses growing in the cemetery, so I don't see why we can't get some going in our garden.
While I was digging (more holes -- ugh) in the wildflower area I encountered the usual debris we find back there -- broken bricks, broken glass. It was evidently a trash heap for the construction of this house. Among the detritus I found this:
It's a plastic tag. I figured it came off a piece of garden equipment -- a beehive, maybe? When I brought it inside and washed it off, I found this on the other side:
Turns out that Bees of Chester was a plant nursery, apparently well known for breeding roses. (As I gather from trusty Google.) It's been out of business for years, but this tag must have come from one of their plants, probably the rose hybrid known as Princess Margaret of England.
The Princess Margaret is a big pink tea rose, and we do indeed have two pink rose bushes at the side of the garden. (I picked one recently, remember?) At least one, if not both, must be a Princess Margaret. Et voila -- mystery solved!
Anyway, I got a lot done in the garden. Everything is in the ground that needs to be, and I picked up all the half-eaten green walnuts that the squirrels have gnawed off our walnut tree (a daily springtime task) and dead-headed the roses and mowed the grass. I also finished a depressing issue of The New Yorker, detailing how Donald Trump is destroying the American civil service and the diplomatic corps -- I cannot wait for the mid-term elections, and yes, I have already requested my overseas ballots.
Then I moved on to David Sedaris's new book, "Calypso," because after that Trumpian reading experience I needed something light and humorous. And I managed to take a nap, to make up for Olga's early wake-up call yesterday morning.
Dave, meanwhile, was at our school's graduation ceremony in Westminster. I never go to graduation, and every year I feel guilty for skipping it -- but I'm not a teacher and I don't have the same relationship with many of the kids that the teachers do. Beside, someone needs to stay home with the dog, right?