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March 10, 2011
two days I went to my parents.
The weather was magnificent.
The sun, strong enough and bright in the sky.
No cloud.
a reminder that winter is still frost on the grass and a thin layer of ice on the bogs and capricious.
grass, bright green with a delicate, sweet prelude to the spring.
And the mother knot of flowers.
trains.
punctually late, both outward, both to return.
Modestly full.
In one stretch in the sun on the mountains, the bright and cheerful primrose yellow.
Enchanting.
A few stubborn sprinkle of snow here and there ...
shade.
lazy afternoon I did some gardening on the balcony ...
My parents have given a map of hydrangea.
And I planted, hoping that my black thumb, or rather my black arm, is on strike.
I have the opportunity to do some cleaning: remove dead plants and empty jars.
Cuddling roses maybe, magically, did not die in the winter ...
The peony has buds, do not believe ...
Even the rosemary seems to be alive.
The cacti have been periodically extended survival courses at regular intervals.
are veterans ...
I really hope it rains ...
It seems that the predictions are with me.
The wind is not there, so I can be hopeful.
Also because the clouds are pretending to be threatening.
Fine weather or bad weather tomorrow I go by 'witch' for an advanced tactical hair restoration: making the white color to cover.
For everything else, it would take too many witches and wizards ...
Now I escape.
Myrtle expects additional doses of pampering.
meows softly with gentle eyes and loads of expectations ...
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