Bright, though not yet especially warm. Small white-and-purple species tulips peak through the dirt, accompanied by bluebells and the first unfolding mitts of bloodroot. Without having planned it, but probably destined by the nature of the day, I planted a persimmon, a red buckeye, ostrich ferns, and hollyhocks. Began using the mound of ground up pine tree left by the stump annihilator. Slept after the Great Planting, and dreamed I was in Venice.
Joined an ensemble that increases rehearsal from two to four hours. Not sure I can sustain that. B, forced to sit beside me, still does not utter a word. It’s hard to forgive those who catch us doing wrong.
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