sovay | Pulling weeds up from a blind confession

I am covered in sweat and quince blossom. This is one of those factually correct, rather less poetic than they deserve statements; the back yard has a quince tree which was busy molting as I finished mowing the lawn. After which I weeded around Rosabella, the late-blooming dogwood in the side yard; I wore my hat, but leaves and tiny green caterpillars still ended up in my hair. And scratches on my arms from all the twigs and branches I gathered out of the way. And when I blow my nose, I get pollen. Nature wins. If I start to root or flower, I'll let you know.

I did celebrate May Day this year;

nineweaving and I went to Theatre@First's next-to-last-night of The Winter's Tale, music by

sen_no_ongaku, which was both seasonally apt and (Autolycus for the win!) really awesome. But I completely forgot to post anything for the day. I don't know why that should matter; Livejournal is the world's most cheap-ass ritual, but there you are. So I think A.L. Lloyd's "The Derby Ram" properly belongs to midwinter, but I offer it here anyway: it was stuck in my head all the time I was surrounded, sometimes inconveniently, by the fruits of spring, and therefore I say it counts.

And indeed, my lads, it's true, my lads—I never was known to lie
And if you'd been in Derby, you'd seen him the same as I . . .

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I don't know. If you're going to be unbalanced about something, eighteenth-century theater sounds like a good pick.

It's not so much that I'm unbalanced about it as that I'm unbalanced by it. I've been having real trouble making way with this paper, and it didn't help that I ended up taking an excessive dose of St. John's Wort for a couple of weeks--apparently what an excess of the same does to me is that it makes me depressive and even more ADD than I'd otherwise be.

Well, it will be done soon. Not good, but done.

Pulling weeds up from a blind confession

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