January 31, 2016

Made a dawn raid on the garden at the Phil Mechanic, liberating iris from the chaos that probably looms before us. I would have said I was dividing them had I been caught. But I made the garden and should not be expected to watch it be plowed under without a remnant. Chill, bright morning. Came home, planted the iris, pruned the roses for their winter sleep. There are a lot of roses. Pruned the magnolias. A swan is floating on Beaver Lake. Fought with God last night. Woke with a recently unusual sense of physical well-being.