Life of Wry

Not really patting myself on the back for this, but worked in the garden today. Which is to say, I weeded for 30 minutes, and boy am I rusty. I usta have a whole routine with my tools, tasks and techniques. Oy…

Anyway, on this 75-degree mid-January day in Northern California, I donned my shorts and crocs, eager to pretend it was spring and I was a gardener.

Look at ALL THOSE WEEDS! (Not to mention those pale, winter legs.)

So, as I said, rusty. It took me thirty whole minutes to weed this small patch (about six feet by one foot) . I’d better up my game here.. it’s a big yard!

Some weeks ago, I planted about 30 bulbs… I see only one sprouting up:

(At least I hope that’s one of mine.) The narcissus are coming up in a few places. I did not plant these .. they are leftovers from the last version of our backyard and survived a year and a half of total neglect, no irrigation, abuse and rototilling!

Whatever bulbs Ruben and his crew found during the leveling of the back yard in prep for the new landscaping, they put in this bucket (no water). And they are growing like gangbusters!

Bulbs are crazy.

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And speaking of handiworks, no sooner did I finish that, than I took on Jim’s hair. In ten months, this might be the fourth or fifth haircut I’ve given him. The electric clippers gave up the ghost last time, so today was a full-on scissor cut, and I think it’s the best one yet… check it out:

I need to tidy up that bottom edge… otherwise, pretty good!