Category: Thoughts


The Process Continues!

As you know, O Reader, I am continuing to make my wedding dress from pages of books. I have made some progress since the last time that I posted, and I thought I would update you!

The front of my dress is largely made; the three panels will be attached together and form a sheet of fabric, essentially. The end result of the overlapping flowers I used for this part is a very tough textile that has a lot of movement and flexibility. It’s about as sturdy as a heavy canvas, and both heavier and lighter than I anticipated. I think it will work nicely. You can also see in the pictures above that the panels have a really nice texture of shadow and light with the petals. I put a 24-inch ruler down for a size estimate since I didn’t have a yardstick, just so you can have an idea of how long the panels are. I used all of Dante’s Inferno and most of a Native American Legends and Myths book, interchanged for a subtle pattern by the darker flowers. It’s interesting because if you read both of the texts (I’ve read them in full before, and read snippets of them again) they both include focuses on transformation, the journey, and finding appropriate guides.

So that’s cool.

 

The pictures of the bodice are a little blurry but on the left are pictures of the bodice before I started adding the extra outside ‘fabric’. I’ve used Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales for this piece.

I took some pictures of my process. The little, rounded pieces of paper have slits on their fold lines, and I took those little wibbly bits and interwove them, creating the heart shape. I have no idea how many of these I made since I forgot to check page numbers, but it was a fairly complete copy of the “Canterbury Tales” so the answer probably is “a lot’.  It’s rather soothing folding these. Cutting them was a bit harder since I wanted to cut the pages in batches instead of individually (because perfection takes too much time?)  and the paper would slip and move as the scissors went through the layers.

The hearts are based on a pattern my mother showed me when I was younger. The hearts are great for Valentine’s Day, because when you weave them they form a little pocket, and you can tuck candy or cards inside and give them away. Not to shamelessly promote candy giving. I just really like candy and want other people to have as much as they like too!

I originally thought about gluing the hearts into the scale pattern that’s sort of happening, but when it came down to it glue was going to make the papers much too stiff and crackly. So instead, I’ve sewed the hearts together and I am sewing those strands onto the bodice itself. The layers are very thick and support themselves, and the thread holds them very steadily to the framework I have. The strands are also flexible, which makes me have hope for the more curved parts of the bodice. I will let you know how the negotiations with that particular challenge later.

As you can see, I still have a long way to go, but it’s really coming along nicely and is much stronger than I had hoped for.

So, that’s the update! I hope you have enjoyed it, O Reader, and I will let you know as soon as I make more noticeable progress!

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Simply A-Maze-ing!

Take two! I had something all written up for this, but I apparently did not save often enough. So, once more into the fray.

Yesterday, I watched a fabulous movie called “Dave Made A Maze”. Here is the Trailer:

It’s a story that uses a simple design to tell a really compelling story. The set design is largely beautifully creative cardboard, tissue paper, and paper confections of imagination; everything from tubes to corrugated cardboard, to long streamers of sheer fabric with delicate lights brightening the room through a gentle mist that permeates the maze. I felt like the trailer didn’t spoiler the film either; the best moments were definitely not mentioned, but it still gives a really good feel of the wonder in the movie.

There are elements of almost cartoon horror; as the labyrinth begins to attack through multiple booby traps, red confetti and streamers are used in place of blood in all but the earliest instance (a paper cut). It was a surprise, but it brings forth the questions as soon as it happens; are injuries and fatalities permanent? If you die in a dream, do you die in real life also? How afraid should we be? There’s a sense of consequence, but ambiguity as to how heavy it is, at first.

Mazes and Labyrinths in mythology often have elements of concealing and revealing. Dave’s maze is no different.

Dave is an artist who has difficulty finishing any of his pieces. Left alone to his own devices, he builds from torn up bits of cardboard and origami. He becomes trapped in his own creation, unable to get out. It separates him from Annie, who returns and is, perhaps understandably irritated that another incomplete project is between her seeing him. Annie humors him until she also steps inside and realizes the depths that she has come into.

Annie, in many ways, is Dave’s strength. She pushes him to want more than what he knows he can do, and at the same time is the support structure that he needs to grow. Annie is also the furthest thing from a damsel in distress. She takes matters in hand, and is completely uninterested in playing to the camera, even when the enormity of what Dave has accomplished strikes her. Even when she accepts help from other characters, it is in the same way as any of them might need and not based on her gender. She isn’t superwoman, either. She has her limits and she is powerful within them. She knows Dave is capable of wonderful things, and the two clearly have a long and complex relationship which is presented in few words, the making of a sandwich, the unspoken communication that happens physically between the actors. Meera Rohit Kumbhani and Nick Thune do a remarkable job in contextualizing the couple’s dynamic in the way they behave around each other, with simple gestures such as holding hands or eye contact.

The story between these two is not just a revelation of what is being hidden in Dave’s life, his fears and worries overwhelming him artistically, and preventing him from completing anything. It’s a question of whether or not the couple can survive the stresses. Dave’s decision to finish the maze, despite all odds, creates possibility and changes the dynamic. It’s a really well developed and familiar storyline in the sense that it feels like a real relationship, not only one you see in the theaters.

Dave’s friend Gordon is also wonderful; a mix of supportive and smart, brave and also humorous, he clearly cares about both of them and is one of the first people to realize how dangerous the maze might actually be. He and Dave also have a great patter back and forth which I really think serves Dave as a point of restfulness; they play off words and silly rhymes which sometimes make you groan with the dad-jokeness of it all.

The trio of the documentary crew are great comedic relief, but the way that they continue to try to document the storyline raises questions about what we’re seeing as well. The director, Harry, is a friend, but he also is so single-mindedly focused on scripting reactions and creating scenes that it begins to make me question what we’re seeing as the film outside the film. What is scripted and what is a genuine reaction?

The cameraman is so devoted to capturing everything on film; he shares Harry’s determination to record and preserve that he sometimes misses what’s right in front of him. There were moments where my Fiance and I were shouting at the screen because he wouldn’t interact with the world he was in. He creates a dilemma because although there are moments he takes the camera away from his eye he constantly focuses on the narrow vision of the camera view and not on anything else around him. I began to think about how in the same way as the film Harry will present is different than the one we see, more constrained in many ways, there are also sections that we are not party to, that we don’t get to see, and that maybe add more layers to the entire labyrinth. You can only really take one path at a time, even when you’re watching a movie.

The sound guy actually turned out to be one of my favorite characters. He’s very understated, and at first it seems like he’s just going to follow the cameraman around and listen to what’s going on without engaging. But he is in an interesting place because he can hear what’s happening as opposed to just seeing it. He begins to change what’s happening around him and becomes as invested as anyone else in completing the labyrinth.

There is a great cast of other characters, but the core group was powerful enough to drive the film even with the focus shifting from one view to the next, with comedic relief and setting placement driven by the ability to expand what the audience sees in the labyrinth.

Slight spoilers follow.

All labyrinths have at least one beast lurking, and the classic minotaur makes an appearance here as well.

This has got to be one of my favorite depictions of a minotaur. It’s classic in design, and the combination of flesh and cardboard (You’ll have to watch the film to get the full effect!) is delightful and whimsical, as well as terrifying. He looms in the shadows and drives the characters to press the limits of what they can or are willing to do. He provides a perfect example of how your fears can overwhelm and destroy you. And on top of that, the artistry of the bull head in cardboard is fantastic! The texture is just amazing, and I love the details that go into it.

Dave also begins to meld with his maze, and again, the interplay between flesh and art really got me. Where is the division between art and artist? and what does it mean when they overlap? What does it mean when the beast of your fears becomes more real to you than your success? Seeing how your art and hopes and desires can divide you from the people around you is terrifying.

But I digress.

Thank you to the crew who made such a fabulous movie, and for Solar City’s generosity in having their back; this film’s cardboard was from recycling dumpsters and scrap cardboard, and Solar City offered them their leftover when they ran out of their first source. Part of what makes this cool is that all of the cardboard in this shoot was free. I love the recycled elements, which is such a cool eco-friendly way to make a movie!

I cannot recommend “Dave Made a Maze” highly enough. I don’t think it’s something I would recommend for kids, but it’s definitely a movie I will watch again and again.

And I want to make a maze now, too! I think I’ll try and make a kid-rated one for Halloween. Better start collecting cardboard!

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Anastasia Barnett

 

It’s never a bad time for a Snoopy dance! I love Peanuts, so I am really happy I could paint one for my coworker’s birthday. He’s always so wonderfully delighted with everything. We need more Snoopy days in our lives.

Edit: point of clarification! I do not have any rights or anything RE: Snoopy. The copyright is for my blog only. Snoopy belongs to the amazing Charles Schulz and all credit belongs to him. If there are any issues with my display of this character, please let me know and I will act accordingly. However, my words are my own and I would like to keep that credit for myself. Thank you!

Flowers from the Inferno

This is actually not a post about my garden; it’s an update on my wedding dress.

For my dress, I am taking pages from various texts and … I think the best word is ‘manipulating’ them into a text-ile. (Get it? It’s almost a pun! I’m done.)

For the front of my skirt, I am using flowers made from Dante’s Inferno, and also from American Indian Myths and Legends. I cut each page into a square, and fold it into a flower. Then, I take the flowers and glue them together with Loctite, and form little ten-flower squares.

I’m not quite done with the Inferno yet, but I am getting pretty close.

I picked these two mostly because the books I have are about the same size, so it’s fairly easy to keep the flowers the same size. To make sure I take into consideration paper color difference and the amount of text and handwriting on the pages, I’m planning on making a diagonal pattern where I alternate between the ten-squares of one and then the other.

I’ve come up with some interesting phrases as I’ve done this; I think my favorite is, “No commas in hell”. You can kind of see it in the pictures of this flower square.

I still have a long way to go.

When I tell people I’m using the Inferno for the front of my skirt, I’ve gotten some interesting responses.

“Why not the Purgatorio, or the Paradiso?”

“Is this just because you like the Inferno or is there another literary reason?”

“That’s pretty weird.”

“Oh, cool.”

I could give an argument that the Inferno is a tale of two souls traveling through difficult times together, giving strength and support to each other, before they emerge.

I could say that it’s one of my favorite texts and that it has influenced the literature I read, I write, the images I paint from, the way I view the world around me.

I could say that this is my fiance’s copy, and his writing on the pages leads to beautifully obscure and non-contextualized phrases.

I could even just say that I’m using it because I want to.

But I think the best way to explain why the Inferno, is in the language of the inferno itself. At the end of the final canto of the Inferno, it concludes,

“La duca e io per quel cammino ascoso

intrammo a ritornar nel chiaro mondo;

e sanza cura aver d’alcun riposo

salimmo sù, el primo e io secondo,

tanto ch’i’ vidi de le cose belle

che porta ‘l ciel, per un pertugio tondo.

E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle”,

which my copy translates into

“My leader and I entered on that hidden path to return to the bright world; and, without taking care for rest at all, up we climbed,

up we climbed, he first and I second, until I saw the beautiful things the heavens carry, through a round opening. And thence we came forth to look again at the stars.

And thence we came forth to look again at the stars”.

I crewed for my dad’s ultra marathon in Arizona; through the night, I climbed down through the levels of hell with Virgil and Dante, I watched as my dad moved further and further into the pureness of running as opposed to the conscious running; and I waited for him, missing my fiance and the light.  I finished reading the Inferno in the early morning. Just a little while after I read those beautifully constructed sentences, the sun rose, and my dad finished his race.

The memories I have tied to the Inferno are embedded in life imitating art imitating life. I want it on my dress because it is important to me. I want it on my dress because it’s part of who I am in many ways.

 

Hello, O Reader. I am making a return from a camping trip followed by a successful BolderBoulder! I have also had some time to think in the last two days, mostly about why I was too tired to write!
But here I am, sitting on the couch, where our own little puppy-Daredevil is keeping me from sleeping, and my sweet Chaucer is hovering around the edges in hopes the puppy will move so he can come curl up with me, and I’m watching Tyra Banks’ Top Model series and wondering why I haven’t turned it off.

But!

More on that later.

First! Camping and BolderBoulder!

(Apparently so many exclamation points.)

We went camping up in the mountains over the weekend. One of my favorite things about living in Colorado is that you can drive forty-five minutes out from town and find yourself in some of the most majestic and empty places. The beautiful stretch of sky overhead is blue like wow……! Here are a few pictures I took with my phone. Lady Dr. Doolittle took some with her camera that will be clearer, when I get the chance to post them. But, here are some of mine!

It rained off and on while we were up there, but we stayed warm, and it was a wonderfully relaxing trip while I rested. It’s so nice to get away from all the hubbub and just breathe a little. Also, campfires and marshmallows!!!!

Then, we came back right into the thick of the hubbub! The BolderBoulder wraps all the way around the neighborhood, including our more permanent abode. We woke up early and walked to the start, then took off on the course!

We finished in about an hour and a half; our mile estimate was about 14-15 minute mile. It as so much fun; we discovered that I have the power to run as long as I get my hair watered down; every time we passed a hose, sprinkler, or super soaker, I ran through it and asked people to get my hair damp. I love the Bolder Boulder for many reasons, including the amount of cheering and enthusiasm of the entire city. Everyone gets involved, in one way or another, even if they aren’t walking or jogging, or running. And the costumes have been fabulous every time I’ve lost myself in the crowd. It really makes kids days to see their favorite characters going running past, and it’s great for everyone to just take a day to play in the street with a parade of happy, runner’s high people going past, followed by the actual professional race. It’s just such a joyful experience.

Now that I’ve started into an extremely long rant!

This is Chaucer! The Black Panther is on adventures elsewhere, but I have adopted my sweet boy, and he is fitting in…. about as well as would be expected for two cats of a certain age.

My happy kitty!

And finally, after all that, I am resting on the couch after weeding the front garden and trying to figure out what to write. Yesterday, I fell asleep on the giant bean bag instead of writing. It’s funny, because despite everything I did get to do, everything I achieved, and everything that was wonderful, my mind keeps rotating back to the need to write and the fact that I haven’t for this weekend. So, I’m breaking that cycle of negative thought. I’m posting. And now, O Reader, I’m going to go cuddle with my Chaucer, rest my legs, and prepare for the next adventure!

As an aside: Good luck to science and scientists as we press on. I was able to enjoy all of the luxuries that I had this weekend of clean air, mist rolling down the mountain through just the top of the trees, green grass and fertile soil, and sunlight warming me up from our extravagant use of water and other resources because of the work being done to protect them. Let’s keep on, so other people can also be a part of the beauty of everything. Amen? Amen.

This is a rant about a problem I have which is a very first world problem. I’m sorry to anyone who finds this to be nit-picking flaws in opportunity and privilege; the problem of phones is not necessarily only first world, but the complaining about privilege sure feels like it.  Nonetheless, I am still going to write this.

I have had a deep-rooted dislike of phones for most of my life. I feel a lot of anxiety when making calls, or receiving them, and as a result, I am typically very hard to get a hold of, either by phone, text, or email.

                                  From:            http://cartoonsmix.com/cartoons/can-telephone-cartoon.html

 Most of the people I know have mostly given up on timely responses. I’ll hear voicemail six months after it was intended to be heard, see texts and not answer them until I see the person who sent it and they ask in person, and my email backlog is insane. I’m buried in it. Part of the build up is because of a number of things I ask my friends to send me, images and story ideas and such, and part of it is because I have the same anxiety I do with phones and text, appointments and just things I miss. I start feeling existential dread that I haven’t responded yet, and it stresses me out to the point where I can’t respond because of how worked up in my brain the not-answering has gotten to. I can’t find the right thing to say, even if it’s obvious because I’ve taken so long to respond in the first place.

I’ll tell people I don’t like phones, but in this crazy, connected world we live in, the ‘dislike’ gets overlooked and becomes an unhelpful pattern, a problem that irritates other people. One friend even has concluded that if I haven’t responded to a person in a timely manner, it just shows that I don’t care enough. I don’t care enough to respond, I don’t care enough to be engaged in their life and their conversations and the things they need from me.

It doesn’t matter that I have tried to explain that I do care, but that I don’t like phones. It’s hard for me to express how much stress and panic the text and phone communication causes for me because I feel so irritated that it’s a problem for me at all. Usually, I try to just cover it up and compensate for it, but… well, it’s a big problem for me.

From: http://www.keywordsuggests.com/MsYM80XeMuN7eOKRVHGU2JmymoXHFDaCkf%7COVr0f0UnB%7CAW11WgGEbgZk2H0GVekhzIoG4u*n2FOXXr02QUzWw/

At my work now, I have to call people and answer the phone tens of times a day. And I put on my work face, and pretend it doesn’t bother me, and go home and feel emotionally and mentally exhausted. I can do this, I can keep doing this because I have to. But it wears on me.

Originally a quote from the TV series “Archer”

And I come home, and there are still people on my phone; expecting me to respond on their time, intruding on my brain space and my capacity. It’s an invasion of my space. When I come home, I want to be home. And since it’s not possible to just drop off the map for a while, when someone starts or continues a conversation with me, I feel like I have to respond — or show them that I don’t care, or that I’m too lazy, or selfish, or or or. It’s not a good feeling, and it quickly escalates into the guilt cycle of not having responded making it harder to do so at all.

The spin cycle struggle is real.

But with all of this said, I really like writing letters. There is something so incredibly beautiful about the written word on the page, the smell of the ink and paper, the feel of your tools in your hand, watching the words emerge from the tip of the pen or pencil or brush, whatever your favorite instrument is, and creating something that is a very real and finite intention of communication from you to the recipient.

They build up so wonderfully for you, in a stack of potential and secrecy, veiled love and statements and demands and questions that wait for you in a basket or on the floor, whatever your favorite storage system is, and the response demanded is not instantaneous. There is an expectation that travel time is included along with comprehension time and reaction. There is an expectation that when you put a letter in the mailbox, you might get one back, or you might not. It can get lost. It can be read and ignored. But there is nothing which grabs you by the ribs and demands your immediate intention. They’re on a timetable of when the USPS delivers them. The timing is slower, gentler, more permissive.

And that’s just the transportation of letters.

Letters themselves can be full of artistry and creation. Everything from the handwriting, to the introduction of olfactory potentials, and the content matters. You can have a very serious letter which is blocked out, black and white, demanding and self-important. You can have a letter which is illuminated like medieval manuscripts, torn at the edges and stained with the writer’s coffee.

You can include knights fighting giant snails. Because why not? From: http://io9.gizmodo.com/bizarre-and-vulgar-illustrations-from-illuminated-medie-1456202572

You can include comics, pressed flowers, clippings of other writing, pictures, glitter, gifts and all sorts of surprises.

Phones don’t have this quality for me. Maybe we will have that, someday. But right now, it is a separation from the people I care about, not something that brings me closer. It frightens me, instead of opening up possibility. If I had my druthers, I would wait for the mail everyday to see who had written me what, and what was important enough for them to take the extra time to sit down and actually write to me. Not a Snapchat, or Tweet, or Tumble, but actually a private and special message to me. That seems to embody more caring than text or phone.

This is entirely impractical. People need to be in touch with me more constantly, for more reasons, and I know I have to stretch beyond what frightens me and overwhelms me. I need to work on putting other people’s needs in the order that is appropriate to make sure that when I am contacted there is a response that is helpful and productive.

But I don’t want to. Not because I don’t care, but because if there is one thing that I want to do for myself, it’s allow myself this barrier. I won’t answer the phone, most likely, and I will probably wait until I see you in person to talk about your text. And heaven help you if you send me an email.

But I am trying. I do care about you, and I want to know how you’re doing and what I can do to help. I am trying, and maybe I’ll get better at it as time passes. But in the meantime all I can ask is that people understand that for me, this is hard. And maybe, just maybe, if you aren’t too busy, you might write me a letter.

I would love to talk to you.

Homelessness is a problem I would like to fix, but don’t know how. The place I work at is near a grocery store parking lot. We are up on the second floor, and often we conflict in space with one of the places that some of our homeless population in town collects. We interact on the stairs, in the elevator if it isn’t locked at night, and on our way to and from work.

Over the time I’ve worked there, several of my coworkers have commented on how some of the homeless people aren’t really homeless, they’re just high school students or other people who are trying to make an easy buck; how some of the homeless only use the money on alcohol and drugs so they won’t give them anything, and how much of a disruptive and dangerous presence they are.

It really bothers me when they do that. I feel like there are a couple of problems to this mentality.

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First, it really bothers me that the giver gets to decide how someone spends a gift. We don’t have ownership of a gift we give to a friend, and I find it particularly strange that we nevertheless seem to think we have control over a gift of money to someone on the street. When we give money, it is that person’s job to make the decision for themselves what they need most. Maybe they’re wrong, but it isn’t our job as the giver to make the decision for them. It isn’t right. A gift to someone does not buy that person. It is detached from you. It is no longer your experiences which drive and define the best way it should be utilized.

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Secondly, I feel like it shouldn’t actually matter how the person we give money to spends it. The act of giving is something we should do as much as a benefit to ourselves than anyone else. When you see someone who is in a position of being less well off than you are, or in pain, and you choose not to help them because of how they might choose to use that help, it makes you a lesser person. You turn away a request for help and move on with your life. I would rather give to someone, because no matter what they do with it, I have tried to improve the life of someone who is in need and that makes me better. It allows me to exercise my empathy and sense of community.

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How do we deal with this as a security issue? I don’t know. Sometimes, due to conflict and the general atmosphere of interaction, I have felt unsafe myself. But it’s important to remember that just because someone is homeless, it doesn’t make them less of a person. Security issues are a fact for people who are also housed. It depends on the person and the situation, not the group as a whole. And often, there is more danger to not having a safe place to go anyway. I would rather look for ways to build positive relationships to foster a sense of security, instead of only working off the negative.

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In short, I don’t know how to fix this problem. I don’t know if the answer of providing more free housing, better healthcare, and finding a way to create accessible jobs is the answer, but it seems a great deal better than simply ignoring the problem or sending in the police every time we are made uncomfortable by a different group of people who are just as human and have just as many needs as we do. I know that with more opportunities, more people who need access will flock to an area, but I can’t see how leaving things how they are is an acceptable way to keep going. I think there has to be a new way of handling this problem, and when we find it our society is going to have made a very large stride forward. So, we need to actually talk about instead of just letting the problem be invisible.

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I got a little Zen when I was thinking this through, but there are a lot of different mentalities and beliefs that overlap with this, so I do think it’s relevant to everyone.

If anyone has any suggestions how to help with this problem, please let me know. I would love to start finding a practical solution.

UPDATE! The plants have all begun to expand beyond their horizons into the yard. We have the wooden planter boxes full of onions and sunflowers and cucumbers (it’s in the top right of this picture:)

 

and other things like that. I think there are peppers in that one also. It’s very exciting. Hopefully, they will all do better than the cucumber. It’s wilting a little bit. I’m not sure how to help it because it either looks scorched or wilty.

 

I’ve been being watched from the door a lot. Sometimes if they get too adventurous I spritz them with the hose gently. We don’t need them to claw through the door. Too many wasps and indoor cats being outside.

The new additions in the strawberry pots my family has had forever!

STRAWBERRIES!!!!!!!!!!! They are working on tiny flowers. I have confidence in them.

This is our other planter, full of lettuce and chard. It’s actually starting to look like chard and lettuce. As you can see, the chard leaf is almost as big across as my finger.

AND NOW FOR THE REMAINING SPROUTLINGS! This first one is the Plants for Pollinators! one. I’m going to plant them in the garden box that’s coming together in the front yard. Probably.

 

And then we have marigolds and little goblin flowers, and chamomile, and….. I’m not actually sure what else is in there anymore. We have a chart for that. but they are doing well! by and large.

And here above we have from left to right: A possibly growing raspberry, a definitely growing raspberry, and the definitely growing raspberry with one of my 15 or so year old metal peacocks guarding it from trampling feet and anything else the peacock guardian doesn’t like. Also, a rose bush in the background. They are doing well, even the one that is only possibly growing? the roots looked like they were fine when we planted it. Fiance says it will be fine. WE SHALL SEE!

My bucket of the Plants for Pollinators! I think it will be very pretty when they get a little bigger. Right now they are just lovely little clusters of multiple types of leaves vying for space. I’m not sure who will win but there are many contenders.

AND NOW FOR THE INDOOR PLANTS! They are all doing well in the window, but the herbs are a little wilty right now because they hadn’t been watered for six hours and apparently disapproved. Such picky, thirsty little plants. They perk up again quickly as soon as water is added. The succulents seem to be doing well? I find it kind of hard to tell with some of them, but the ones that look like little water sacks are doing well. And the aloe seems happy with its life. But, It’s an Aloe. It doesn’t do much.

 

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST, O READER! One of my coworkers is a fellow gardener this year. She had some little sproutlings who needed to go to a good home, and so they came home with me! I brought them inside in a box, and told Fiance and the Golden Avenger and Lady Doctor Doolittle “So, before you get upset…” Lady Doctor Doolittle was apparently hoping for a puppy, but was quite happy with plants. Golden Avenger was mostly confused about why he would be upset. Fiance face-palmed.

I think they’ll fit right in…. 😀

 

Copyright © 2017 Anastasia Barnett

 

Copyright © 2017 Anastasia Barnett