petunia guilt

I was starting to feel guilty about the petunias – I only had time, between spells of icy rain which have now run together to make one continuous downpour, to transfer some of them from the tray I bought them in to some larger pots and window-boxes, leaving others cramped in tiny little spaces. I’ve just had a good look at them all sitting on the big doorstep outside the conservatory, and I see that  actually the petunias are flourishing despite the cold and rain and other conditions, whereas the geraniums, which I usually find almost impossible to destroy, look decidedly sorry for themselves. Yes, this is the cue for a picture (see end of post) but not a metaphor for anything else, just an observation on the weather we’ve been having lately.

By the way, I’m expecting the temperature to rise in June, when I plan to write a novel set in the depths of a very cold winter. The effort of imagination required will then inspire me to new heights, allegedly.

Last weekend’s dyeing project was a success and tomorrow we move into the theatre for our next show. It seems like no time since the last one. Fortunately I don’t have time to worry about this because work is so horrendous at the moment. There’s always a bright side. Instead of worrying about that either, I have been reading at least one novel a day on my Kindle. It encourages my worst traits as a reader: focussing so closely on the novel that I don’t notice anything else, particularly the passing of time or cats waiting to get in or out; reading too fast and missing vital information; reading for too long at a time and making my eyes go funny. Still, at least it has prevented me from wasting time watching television or becoming depressed by the thought of the local fair, now only a couple of weeks away.

plants on the doorstep

Petunias and a sad geranium

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