Nepeta

I was about to say that today feels like a little island of sanity after the week, but now the kitchen bin has broken and the washing machine seems to be struggling. Not big things in themselves you understand, but I wonder about the zeitgeist. And Fate, Destiny and all the other biggies which haunt the trivial round the common task. What are they saying, if anything? Brownian Motion is not an answer, anyone who lives in this world can see pattern. Halfway through the jigsaw of life, so have to trust that the gaping holes and random blobby pieces have a relationship with each other.

I lost my temper yesterday after standing up under the freezer door at Mary's and clocking my head, twice. That did it, and I threw the steak across the room where it skidded into a bloody mess, then I had to clean it up. I don't often lose it really.

Anywhy: I have transplanted the suffering nepeta musseini to the new barrel at the top of the slope, in the company of variegated chive, various succulents, a hesitant form of mint and a pretty little mounding thing I don't know the name of. Fourth of July has its first brave blossom. Mary's pawlonia is whomping ever skywards so I guess it has transcended its rocky subsoil. My fig is a little more reticent, but one big tree in that strip is enough.

Cissy graduates tomorrow, we will have to post some photos. She looked so lovely last night, beaming in her cap and gown at the Dean's Honours Convocation (which word I have yet to look up).