Mary Rose, or it could be Evelyn is blooming in the central garden as are the old pink rose and the pink sage in the little basket garden (see below). One day it’s warm and sunny and the next it’s almost freezing but the roses don’t seem to care. On and on they go.

I’m not spending any time out there anymore. Even the lair sits abandoned. I took the carpet out of there and put it in the studio so I could do my yoga there instead but the new heater is seeping out toxic plastic fumes so I don’t know that deep breathing in there is doing me any good.

I’m waiting for a storm. It feels like it will start at any moment. This storm I’m looking forward to. This storm I will enjoy from the comfort of my little nest. A fire, a delicious beverage maybe and the little sticks. It’s that OTHER storm I’m preparing for that I won’t enjoy but feel anxious for because THAT particular storm will leave me dead and bloodied along the way. Toothless, tattered and raving but at least it will be done with. It’s the waiting you see. I don’t do that very well. I knit mostly while I’m doing it. I’ve started and unraveled I don’t know how many sweaters in the last couple of weeks. Really I shouldn’t start any real “project”. I should just pick up my needles and yarn and keep going back and forth until I have something that will cover the earth and on to the moon.
First I’m going to go cut some roses before the storm takes them.