A Crumbly Old Newspaper

Our cardoon, which must be about eight feet tall, is blooming like crazy. It has eight big flowers, a few of which are already spent (above).

Here's one of the fresher ones. The bees love them, and dig way down into the bristly blossoms. It's funny to watch them nose-dive into the plant.

They seem almost drunk with glee, though I'm sure I'm personifying.

Dave signed me up for a monthly craft gin club, in which a bottle of gin and some accessories (various tonic waters and garnishes and snacks) are sent to me regularly. Our first shipment arrived yesterday, just in time for us to take it over to our friend Colin's house to try it out. The gin itself was awesome -- because, well, gin -- but I'm not sure about the garnish of dried goji berries and grapefruit.

Dave ordered it to be delivered here at our house, and I reminded him that we're going to be back at school in a couple of weeks, so we might want to get it sent there. We don't want boxes labeled "craft gin" lingering on the doorstep, an invitation to petty thieves. (I know poor Dave thinks I always see the dark side of everything. But as I've often reminded him, in my family, I'm the optimist!) Of course, the minute we switch it to school, school will be cancelled for coronavirus and we'll have to switch it back. Sigh.

Oh, and our neighbor's gardener trimmed our trees on her side of the fence, as promised, and from our garden you can barely tell. So that all went fine.

Apropos of nothing, here's an old newspaper clipping I scanned while visiting my mom several years ago. It shows my grandfather's marching band from Dunmore High School, outside Scranton, Pa., probably some time in the early 1920s. (My grandfather was born in 1904, so I'm just doing the math.) Apparently the band was brand new at the time, having made its first public appearance in Dunmore that Memorial Day.

 

This is my grandfather, though you couldn't prove it by me. Looks like he's holding a trombone? Or maybe a trumpet?

Here's a better picture of my grandfather, just for the heck of it. He's the one with the S on this shirt -- I believe it was his college sweater, so that stood for "State," as in Penn State. Here's his obituary, available (to my surprise) through the Washington Post archives.