Friday. It’s that day I spend in the gardens. Only today I would need a snorkel or an ark, maybe both, to garden out there. Ironic, isn’t it? My artsy photo of a hose almost covered by water.

I tried to garden. I really did. I went to get a load of mulch in the back of the truck. People at the garden center where I get my mulch spoke to me gently as to a person who has lost her marbles. They wished me luck. The rain was falling so hard on my return to the farm that I threw in the pitchfork and beat a retreat into the house. After all, there is always my other big project calling to me.

Will’s afghan.

I am half done the squares. Maybe, I will get another one done today. It’s a tough job but somebody has to do it. I have made myself the necessary supplies for the long siege by my knitting basket.


Oatmeal raisin cookies. The milk is chilled too. There might even be a few left when Will gets home, but I wouldn’t plan on it. I mean, knitting is almost as hard work as hauling mulch, isnt it?

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