News from the garden:
Thank you, you big old Month of Constant Rain, for murdering my new
rose garden with your mold-inducing constant precipitation. I have buds
that go pale and turn brown before they ever get a chance to open. It’s
a fungus called Botrytis Cinerea. Or maybe it’s an infestation of rose
midges. Lord luv the internet. Whatevs! I’m going all Love Canal on the
garden this week. Luckily, I’m up on all my respirator mask technology.
The morning glories in the deck pots are thriving and have produced flower buds. I credit the Ortho Bug-B-Gon Max spray that got rid of the little black baby bugs that were sticking the new leaves together. I know a few sickly roses that need to be introduced to that particular leetle friend.
I gave some shaggy pygmy barberries a haircut this morning. Inspired by the ease of my success, the oak trees got the same attention. I defeated them but then I had to take a nap.
Tina, I forgot to mention that I don’t have any orange day lilies but I
do have three others. Forget digging up the free ones and get some
fancies from the garden center.
My magnificent Great Wall of Rhododendron which nobody likes but me remains unbothered by Mr. Sami. It’s filled with birds. I have no delusion that if I die before him, he’ll be out there with the chainsaw before the dirt settles over me. That is why I plan to outlive him. That, and the fact that I’ll be able to achieve my decades long ambition to throw out all of his garage shit.
Speaking of birds, a robin has built a nest in the plastic basket where we keep the dog tennis balls. Now it has three eggs in it. She flies in and out a hundred times a day and doesn’t seem to mind anything we do except for the Fry Daddy event yesterday. (Score one for Team Oh No You’re Not)
I admit that he looks a little bit hungover but I swear I did not share my martini with him. He’s pretending to look away from it, but he has that knucklebone on his mind every minute.