Best Smelling time of year

I may have said this a dozen times already on this blog, but I'm willing to say it again and bore you all. Spring is the best smelling time of year...at least it is in my garden.

What is making it smell so great? Load of things.

Ode to My Late Lamented Lombardi Poplar

Ode to my Late Lamented Lombardi Poplar

Oh, my Late Lamented Lombardi Poplar, what has become of you? You were always so tall and full of life. Well, you're still tall--the ones which remain upright that is-- but you're as dead as a doornail now, all eight of you.

We have to stop meeting like this

Really, now, Mr. Snake! We have to stop meeting like this. Four times in the past week alone--and three of those days the rain kept me inside. This is too much. 

You're lucky I was NOT carrying a shovel or instinct would have kicked in and you'd be sliced in two. As it is, I let you go with a mere yelp. Ooh, how I hate the slither of you in the tall grass...creepy. I let you crawl back into the rock wall, I let you pass by me to disappear into the weeds untouched and barely acknowledged.

Can't you just stay away from me? If you continue to show yourself I will not be responsible for your demise if you scare me too much. 

So, go off and chase the moles, eat the field mice--as many as you can stomach, but leave the froggies. They eat the bugs, you know. 

And do watch out for the hawks and eagles...hard to hide from them and we wouldn't want you to end up anyone's dinner, now do we? Well, maybe.

Could things get any crazier

If you have been here at Glory's Garden long enough, you would know I don't always get to play around in my garden-- I know, shocking isn't it?-- and that I have to do--HORRORS-- office work. Well, as office work goes, it can be rather boring, tedious and hardly a  bit fun. Then there are times when it gets outright annoying, maddeningly stressful and utterly insane.

Case in point: Yesterday---oy, what a day.

April Fools Day---delayed by one

Oh, Mother nature, You are a cruel one with a wicked sense of humor, aren't you?

You had us fooled indeed. We thought we were in the clear. Heck, April's fool day was yesterday and it passed without any shenanigans further making us relax...fools indeed.

We spent a lovely day wandering the gardens, viewing the new pop-ups in the yard, the crocus, buds swelling, the daffodils and daylilies sprouting. We even grabbed a pair of clippers and did some much needed clipping of worrisome brambles and some branches to force indoors--Most likely a failed experiment as usual but we love to try, don't we?

It was a nice way to get a bit of much needed sun and some enjoyable exercise.

Ah, but that was yesterday. For what did we find upon arising this morning? Six, count them, S-I-X inches of snow and it is supposed to snow again tomorrow.

**Sigh**

What can we expect from you, Dear Mother Nature, when you continually feel the need to flirt with that nasty little Jack Frost?

©2018 Glory Lennon All Rights Reserved  

How we met

St. Patrick’s Day is the day Tom and I met some 30+ years ago. It is not however the first time we met. Of course, we didn’t know that until a few years after we were married. Heck, we had just had our second child, Brandon, when we discovered we had met before we met. I’ll tell you about that later.

For now I’ll explain how we met on this day 30 some years ago, on Saint Patrick’s day back on Long Island, in New York at the Arby’s restaurant in Port Jefferson Station.

Tom and Glory in Fantasy Divorce Court, p#1

Every time Tom ticks me off I invariably say, “I should divorce you for that!” which invariably makes Tom laugh.

Then he goes off into a fantasy ala Walter Mitty. He wonders what would be the reaction if we did indeed go to divorce court with these frivolous arguments. What follows could be the scenario:

Judge: “All right, why do you want to divorce Tom this time, Glory?” he says in a bored voice (because we’ve been in front of him so often, you see.)

Another murder at the compost pile

      

   

          “Egad!”

          Dr. Phineas Mossmite* nearly jumped out of his very comfortable seat at this unexpected utterance from his long-time friend, current flat-mate and all-round weird dude, West Milford’s  foremost detective Winkle Picot*.

          “Hush, man!” Dr. Phineas Mossmite admonished as he made quite sure the newest copy of the American Medical Association newsletter completely covered  the Hooters and Toochies magazine he had been perusing—and no, he was NOT reading it for the articles. “This is quiet time. Do you seriously want Mrs. Bilgepump to come up here and give you what-for—no doubt with a back-handed smack across the noggin with her ever present cast iron skillet, too!”

He shuddered at the very thought.

Achy Breaky time

T'is a great time of year. It is spring and what do we love about spring? The garden! Oh, yes, so much to do in the garden ...snipping this, that and the other, transplanting, weeding, getting the garden ready for veggies, perennials and annuals. 

Only this is, it is also an achy-breaky time for my back. Ouch! I never hurt until AFTER I am done for the day, come inside and yikes! Why don't I ever hurt while working??? Don't  know.

An irritating time of year

 This is for me an irratating time of year. Yes, I know it's spring now--officially anyway-- and Winter is far worse, but...