Saturday, June 9, 2018
The Crutch Mystery
I'm remembering, now, one of the chief disadvantages of this otherwise beautiful time of year. There's WAY TOO MUCH daylight. Dawn comes before 4:30 a.m., dusk lingers after 9:30 p.m., and Olga begins vibrating and standing over us in bed, tail wagging, as soon as there's enough morning light outside for her to believe (deludedly) that she can catch a fox or a squirrel.
Which means that today, I got up at 5 a.m.
So here I am, half an hour later, in broad daylight, doing laundry.
The garden is still doing amazing things. Here are some of our peonies. They're a variety called "Bowl of Beauty," and don't they look like ornate chopped salads from a fancy Asian restaurant?
And here's the sage that was gnawed to nothing by slugs not even two months ago. It recovered well after I put it in a pot, and now it's blooming!
Not much news from the library, except that someone left a single crutch standing against one of the bookcases the other day. It's been in the lost-and-found ever since. How did a person who needed a crutch to walk into the library not need it to walk out? Does the library have healing powers? Did they hop out?
(Top photo: A grassy path through Buckhurst Hill, East London, on May 20.)