Thursday, Jun. 20, 2002
Dear Diary:

The geraniums in my window box are being petty.

Have you ever seen such cranky geraniums.Frankly, I am taken aback by their sour attitude and complete lack of blossoms. The geraniums I have known in the past have always been fun-loving, bloom a minute kinds of plants, but the gang sulking in my flower box are definitely of another ilk.

Perhaps it's because we got off on the wrong foot. Okay, there was that one time right after I bought them when I forgot to water them, they dried out completely and wilted right over.

Well, actually, that happened twice.

But see, the problem was that they were in insanely tiny pots and completely root bound.

They should have said something.

Besides, that was nearly a month ago.

Oh, and I suppose they'd want to bring up the fact that I left them outside during a freak May snowstorm. Well, that was an accident, too. I mean, even we Canuckians don't look for snow in May for heaven's sakes. Haven't these plants ever heard the phrase "Let bygones be bygones"?

Sheesh, I'm telling you, the attitude I'm getting ...

These last two days have been the first sunshine we've had in forever. All that rain has meant that the moisture loving plants in my gardens have been going mental with happiness.

So very gorgeous and look at how joyous those other pink hanging geraniums are, eh.Take a look at my blue hosta.

I know.

You want to start a cult in their honour, which I think is perfectly understandable and acceptable and shows just how perceptive my three loyal readers are.

But remember, No Vats of Purple Kool-Aid.

(That would be today's Obscure Joke About A Cult Mass Suicide and since almost all of my three loyal readers were born after this happened, they have no idea what I'm talking about.)

Zygotes. I'm surrounded by zygotes, I tell you.

My Nelly Moser clematis which is insanely wonderful and always makes me smile when I look at it.Moving right along, my clematis is also a thing of beauty and a joy forever. Oh, and my iris. My iris are so wonderful this year that I'm thinking about getting them bronzed.

And then it all comes crashing down when I turn and look at my lupins.

For those of you keeping score, it's Lupins 15, Marn 0.

As my three loyal readers may recall, for years and years I've been growing a big drift of lupins behind my pond. Every other year or so I go out and spend my hard-earned money on a package of mixed Russel Hybrid Lupin seeds, a packet which boldly displays white, yellow, and red lupins along with the far more common pink and blue.

I scarify the seeds, germinate them between paper towels, plant them out by my pond. I tenderly nurse the babies through their first summer and wait with bated breath each following spring hoping against hope that I will get the white, the red or dare I dream ... the yellow spires for which I've yearned for years and years.

Freakin purple and freakin pink lupins.  I ask you, what I have done in my life that is so evil I am not allowed to have white, red or yellow lupins.I went through the ritual last year and for my efforts I got:

Yep, that's right.

MORE pink and purple lupins.

Sometimes it's hard not to be bitter, eh.

--Marn

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

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2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.