April 30, 2022

Oddly still Saturday. Hoed and planted the last of the central back garden with the remnants of what I had on hand and some newly bought annuals: pale cosmos, marigolds, nasturtium, the big orange Mexican sunflowers that I fear will take over everything.  Sat in the shade and watched the birds at their not-always-intelligible tasks. 

Michelangelo was my age when he died.