Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Note To Preacher After Funeral

Betrayal of words with wisteria



Dear blogger hello and sorry. In recent days I've abandoned the blog and many commitments because, as every year at this time, I had to divert my energies towards a very demanding mistress: my garden.
"It 's all about the moon ..."
In January, in Liguria, begins the period of pruning. Unlike many other regions of the north, here Nature we begin to yawn and wake up - the roses have buds several inches long - and each plant fruit and did not need surgery love to return in a couple of months, the elegance of Her dress of colors, fragrances and bloom.
And so, as moon is waning and the warmth of the sun is around the corner, I started my own company because titanic, one way or another, I love plants in the round, while my Like most other families who enjoy the results.
Of course, living in the countryside - the photos above are on Saturday - there really so much work to do and, given that over the garden below the house should also keep in order a couple of bands, but roll up your sleeves! Especially since last year because of ongoing work for the publication of my book, my husband threw his energies into his work and several thousand other mishaps, including children, grandchildren, home and more, the ' I really neglected. And so the timing of the next few weeks will be punctuated by a lot of saints, known very well by experts: S. Shears, S. Saw, S. Brushcutter, S. Fertilizer, S. Zappa, S. Rake, etc. etc. etc.
So I apologize for the days past and those to come in again betray you and without any regard, but, you know how it is: Nature has maintained its charm over time, and I I will bend over backwards to be embraced by the branches of an olive tree sprouts or kiss from a rose, hoping to see as soon as the results that I expect to produce. Why the wisteria I have dispensed caresses Saturday and Sunday, but many others are still waiting for the drums and my care, as all these bodies awaiting me tickle fancies and hands, and send me the thrill that is fraught with extreme simplicity, will appear in sob, like a switch went haywire.

And you? Do you have a garden or a small potted plant waiting for the touch of your fingertips?

0 comments:

Post a Comment