HAPPY MAY DAY!

My lillies are going to spring open any day now - v. pretty. My new rose opened it's first flower. The pansies look like pandas and the columbines are beautiful. I found out there is a new columbine called 'Magpye' - it is so dark it is nearly black, but the corolla is half white. Needless to say, MUST order the seed.

Magpie Columbine
Speaking of ordering seed, yesterday I happened across Slow Food (opposite of fast food), an organization dedicated to saving old varieties of veggies and livestock. They even work to save production methods that produce old style Tupelo honey, traditional Hawaiian sea salt and birch tree syrup. I admire the organization's work.

Anyway, my point is I couldn't help myself; I ordered seeds for Moon & Stars Watermelon seeds (Hey, hey, you, watch those watermelon jokes!). A black melon (didn't I tell you to watch the jokes?) covered over in round yellow moons and splatters of stars. Who could resist magical fruit that lets you grow your own map to the stars? I also ordered seeds of Black from Tula Tomato and Sunberries. Now, whether or not I actually get these wonderful heirlooms into the soil will be another thing entirely, said the woman with year old hollyhock bulbs in the bottom of her fridge, alongside octogenarian daffodil bulbs.

If I could have ordered seeds for growing Mulefoot Hogs, I'd have ordered some of those too. Come to think on it, I guess I could order Hog seeds, but that'd be a bit messy, and anyway, I haven't any sows.

Pooh Bear Buys Spoons

I ordered demitasse spoons from Ebay last week. They're to go with my other Danish Princess silver-plated cutlery. The silverware belonged to my parents and I've always loved them. Over time I've added different pieces; a cake cutter here, butter knives there.

Yesterday the adorable little spoons arrived. I've ordered from Ebay before and have become lazy, not fully reading the description. Didn't realize the the spoons which were pre-owned, had intials engraved on the handles - horror! I thought maybe I'd been ripped off but when I checked on line, sure enough, the seller had mentioned initials; my bad. As it turned out this is a classic example of what my friend Barb calls my 'Pooh Bear luck'. The initials on the teaspoons? Each spoon has an elegant M, you know, for Miller - talk about dumb luck.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn... er, in Fair Oaks...

A couple weeks ago I tore down the dead Cecil Bruner climbing rose that has grown along the back fence line since I moved in years ago. It was just a wooden skeleton; I don't know if the deep pruning by the gardeners or insect vermin did it in, but it is likely that both had a hand in the rose's demise. Like the class act it was, the Cecil Bruner rose thoughtfully left behind a shrub sized baby, which is currently covered in baby pink blooms.

What I'm getting at is, it was only a couple of weeks since I was in that bit of my garden. Yesterday morning I opened my bedroom blinds and what did I see growing up straight and tall in that very spot? A humongous flippin' Tree of Heaven, bold as brass & as tall as me, growing right where I'd torn down the rose maybe three or four weeks ago. How can any tree grow so damned fast! I ran right out side and did a dance on it's weedy arse. I think some bird must have sat on the phone lines overhead and pooped me a freakn' big-arse weed tree. Stupid Tree.

[Management wishes to point out that Miss Miller normally loves and mourns the loss of trees on and around her property, but her love of trees does not extend to the ugly-arse 'Tree of Heaven' purposely imported by Chinese Immigrants eons ago. The Chinese brought the seeds of the annoying and invasive trees with them from China as a reminder of home; their sweet memories of home, our continuing battle with a noxious nasty weed that now grows like big-arse sore thumbs all over the United States. The Tree of Heaven is the famed tree that grew in the novel (which Ms. Miller has read and loved) A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.]


In other news, yesterday I plum forgot I had a ticket to see a musical play at the Davis Musical Theater Company. Happily, my musical theater buddy Cornetta did not forget. Her phone call saved us both from missing out on a fun evening.

Neither of us knew a thing about the play - The Pajama Game - but we laid wager that the old 1950s play would contain at least one tune we'd recognize. Popular tunes often have their roots in moldy oldie plays that few remember any more. Sure enough, during the play there were three tunes that made our heads swivel round as we giggled like the demented creatures we can be. The one I enjoyed the most was Steam Heat (as in 'we got sssssss.... steam heat, but I need your love to keep away the cold', dancing all sexy Fosse, Jazz Hands and stuff).

We totally enjoyed ourselves.