I took two years of French. I have an amazing accent. I don’t understand diddly. But while in Paris, attempting to board a train with a five-year-old, a kindly French gentleman asked me, in French, “Are you going to Disneyland?” Fair question given the five-year-old. I answered, “Oui,” (cause I can handle that much.) He replied, “Then this is the right train.” I thanked him and we all boarded. Then, as he ended up seated next to me, he said, (still in French mind you) “Do you live in Paris?” I managed to answer, in French, “No, I’m American, but right now I’m living in England with my family.” And he exclaimed, “But you speak French!” And I wanted to say, “You now know all the French I know,” but I didn’t know how to say that.
This is just one of what I’m sure are countless stories of how a French accent can get you into trouble.
But my plan today is to show off a few pictures. From our yard. Mostly.
This is one of the new members of the Window Box Club. We evicted the former tenants. Most of them, at any rate. One really stubborn spider plant managed to live through the winter, and despite the fact that it looks a little haggard, we figure that any living example of Survival of the Fittest needs to keep its residence. Plus, maybe it will inspire the tomato plant. But some of the other plant corpses were summarily dispatched and that made room for this…uh…this…snapdragon, maybe? (I would be so much better at this if I bothered to learn the names of the plants.)
And here we have nameless flower number two! This was an impulse buy, we were picking out flowers for pots and the window box and this little guy tapped me on the shin and said, “Buy me! I’m gorgeous! Look at these petals? Could you just DIE over my color?” And well, how could I say no to a sassy little plant like this? So he now shares a pot with a something, a whatchamacallit and a few begonias.
Oh! Oh! I know this one! This is a blossom from The Mallow Plant That Ate Northern California. We cut this plant back to its little nubbins EVERY YEAR and it just grows bigger to intimidate us. This year we forgot to cut it back, it was very close to becoming large enough to need an airplane beacon on top of it, and we asked the guys who cut and weed for us once a month to cut it back. Now, since it was fully leafed out and budding, we figure they’d be modest. That is because we are stupid. They butchered the thing, and I spent exactly eleven minutes in despair before the plant started growing thereby proving that no nasty overzealous gardener was going to get the better of it. But I love this shot because of what the sun did. And I’m sure I’ll be getting my vision back any day now.
And this….this is a sad example of more flower thievery on my part. A month or so ago I desperately claimed Martha Points for flowers of my lovely neighbor’s that had meandered over to my yard. This one actually grew through the cracks in the fence. I don’t feel so bad for taking credit for it. I mean, it wiggled its way through a seam about an eight of an inch wide. It clearly wanted to find some space of its own, away from the showy competition of its rose brothers and sisters. So, if I can offer it sanctuary and all the ooh-ing and aah-ing it clearly thinks it deserves, then I think I can claim a meager point or two.
So let’s update, shall we?
Previous score: -1 Point
For cultivating, coaxing, buying, and downright stealing spring color into my yard, I award myself : +6 Points.
Bringing my new total to : +5 points
And MIL’s plane doesn’t even land for another 3.5 hours. Can we all let out a collective *whew!*