Whoopsy Doozle

In my triumph at finding beautiful hellebores for a good price down in Harrisonburg, yesterday, I forgot to do my daily writing! In all honesty, if it had to be remembering to write, or finding the plant of the moment, I’m going with the plant every time. Not that it has to be either/or. But yesterday’s agenda was freeform. 

The day began with a couple hours of gardening, mostly spring cleanup of leftover autumn debris. While I’m leaving some of the leaves and stalks in certain areas, other areas need a more acidic dressing this year. So I’m going with a pine bark mulch from Green Street Garden Center that my neighbor introduced to me last fall. 

In the afternoon, Brother Robert and I connected the dots, nursery to nursery, on our way to Harrisonburg. After Grass Roots came through for me, we met up with Brother Donald for a rustic Bluestone evening filled with the swapping of ancient, shared memories. I enjoy comparing versions of the same family story, differing in perspective due to birth order.

It was such a full, wonderful day that I didn’t even realize I’d forgotten to write until I work up this morning. As my mother used to say when I was younger, “Whoopsy doozle”.