The Lupins found that quite refreshing:
So did the Anemones and the old Cyclamen -
Just look at the droplets on the Lupin leaves. I watched it for a long time, those perfect beads of water, and wondered what happens in the scale that's just under visibility.
Those Lupins are new here. I got their seeds from a friend last summer. I don't know whether they will be blue or pink. The Anemones, however, are old timers: this is their fifth year! They got here together with the grandma-Cyclamen, i bought them on a whim in the supermarket. They have already produced several new generations.
This is such a thrill for me. Every morning i climb to the balcony upstairs, to check for new Cyclamen buds or another Lupin waking up and stretching out of the ground. I talk to them, hoping my neighbors aren't watching. Sometimes i catch a snail in mid-action. I used to like snails, until i found out they liked my Lupins. For breakfast. So they're not allowed in the balcony anymore, and anyway i can't figure out how they get to that balcony - it seems too whacky for them to trudge up 3 stories. Those Lupins must be really delicious.
So, after that daily trip to the balcony i'm back at my desk, working away, bitching about how cold and rainy and cold it is. If i gather enough bitching volume, and if i do my work, and if it stops raining for five seconds, i might decide to go down to the coffee shop to compensate myself for the weather.
This is what i found on my last trip to the coffee shop:
Someone's Bougonvilleas, on someone else's mattress, in the rain.
Of course, the next morning i had an inexplicable itch to work with pink and red yarn.
Word of the Day
Oh my. I looked up Cyclamen, and this is what Century Dictionary says: "...They are low herbs with very handsome flowers, and are favorite greenhouse-plants. The fleshy tubers, though acrid, are greedily sought after by swine; hence the vulgar name sowbread".
And i was complaining about snails.