stupid or what?

Working this morning in garden, trying to clean up the oasis (ha) between hot tub area and studio - which by July will be not hot tub area and perhaps shady sitting. Sky holding dampness of last night's storms. Pulling out the spent (think of the odd use of this word) orange poppy stalks, having to dig under taller grass to loosen soil. Then phone rings and I run with wet sopping leather gloves, fumbling to get them off. Homeopathy 101, for sting on face that has now swollen; after "does cold make it feel better," i suggest Apis. Back to get the wheelbarrow to fill with the debris. Then the phone rings, I run again - answer before checking the number; it's John. I don't recognize his voice at first and he says it's papa John. oh, pathetic. He wants to know if my brother will buy back his golf club stock ; I say don't ask, he will call if he wants it. I am cold. I say I have got to go. I decide to take a shower; the sun's coming out, it's hotter. How can I feel so little, but stupid, yes. I decide to cut John out of a photo upstairs.

oh dear, tragedy

it seems that my guinea hens have been raptured; i've only dotted feathers on the path up from the studio - i don't know if one or more than one. But fear has scattered them. oh, dear, the end of the world comes often in the hollow; pigeon also seems to have taken off, up or out??!!!

i posted on FB this morning just returned from the Blue House where everything appears ok - I've set out grain for the guineas in their usual spot in case some may have survived the horror of last night. I know there was nothing amiss at 11; as I didn't get home from hearing Anya's band in Blacksburg until after 10. And I saw no feathers on the path last night though it was dark and the stars were particularly vivid.

Guineas circle the house

The movement ever so slight of flowers or of grass is tell tail of the presence of the guinea pod, that and a low "buckwheat buckwheat." I've discovered them in the front of the house near the water barrel and all about and upon the back deck (even to the door, peering inside!). Waiting on Mary Tartaro to pick up "Heavy Boots" and another piece (maybe "pig man pan"); I think I am last on the docket today so I should ump myself and walk doggies to river.

yippee

Blogger up again, in the wet hollar; too wet to plant in the freshly tilled plots which Baldwin worked for me two days ago, too much rain to drink the water directly from the tap. But the flowering is bountiful and my plum tree which has never in its 18 year (?) life produced plums is pendulous with green babies. It's problem was always that it would bloom too soon and suffer frost damage. Eating fresh salads from the earlier planting, potatoes up and looking well and finally a tiny slim asparagus shoot. Monitoring the swollen Mississippi as its bloat moves down to New Orleans; the Army Corp plans to open the Morganza spillway today to divert water from Baton Rouge and New Orleans which will hopefully remedy the dire situation. I keep thinking that Katrina was warning: there really is no way to protect this below sea level city from rising water, not with global warming. Ah, but I am struggling with my anxiety for this once home, birth place, especially as my sons with their families converge there for the memorial for their Uncle Don which is May 21. Working on Heavy Boots who has transformed...may post a picture soon - it is due for pickup in week!