Utter and Unabashed Neglect

My friend, Michelle, was over yesterday to aid in the annual raking in of the cash that we call a Yard Sale.

Afterwards we toured the estate. Michelle pronounced that there are only three kinds of gardens, or she read about it, or made it up or something. They are: Cottage, Japanese & American Border. She felt these were constricting- what if you don't want those sorts of gardens? I think they are only constricting if you choose to accept those categories.

But.... like religions or astrology, it might give you a framework for thinking about things. I was trying to figure out what sort of garden I have. It certainly isn't Japanese. And I don't think it is cottage style. It must be American Border. If that is so, how did all these elements of a cottage garden sneak in? Michelle noticed that I had allowed the Daisies and Black-Eyed Susans to run rampant. She said it even looked neglected! I made excuses- 6" of rain in the last two weeks, blah, blah, blah.

So today during a brief respite from the rain, when the sun came out to bake things into a big steamy pudding I went out and pulled up everything that shouldn't be there. Including all the Johnny Jump Ups , which I think are adorable. I think sometimes I get so caught up in every little plants right to exist in my yard that I forget that gardens are a man-made (woman-made) construct. It is okay to tear things out because they don't look good or don't conform to my vision of my garden.

That being said, I am SERIOUSLY considering yanking out a Pieris on the side of my house even though it is about 4 feet across. I have never liked them. I also have a Taplow Blue Globe Thistle, 3 red-flowering Scotch Broom plants, and two peonies that clearly hate me and refuse to thrive. Any takers?

Michelle and Sarah's Yard Sale

Well it looks like a little slice of white trash heaven here at Casino Gardens- time for Sarah & Michelle's annual yard sale. While we had some mighty fine offerings, the hoards opted to stay inside on a 100% humidity day. It never quite rained (until later) but it seemed that the air was thick with mist.


It was just as well that I was distracted from the garden. You can only do harm when things have been wet for so long- spreading disease & pestilence and compacting your soil. Everything is the color of Ireland and choking with weeds.... can't wait for sunshine again. A day off from the garden allowed me to spend some quality time with my hound, who clearly doesn't get cuddled enough.

Baby Steps

I was chatting with my friend, Louise, who said she had meandered on over to Black Swamp Girl for a look see. She came away saying that after looking at Black Swamp Girl's and my gardens she just felt like such a beginner, amateur, stinking good for nothing gardening baby.

Tut, Tut, chin up. Lots of mistakes to be made between 0 and 60.

It is about the fun of it and the learning of it and the enjoyment of it. I tried to cheer Louise up by relaying the fact that just yesterday morning I realized I have been calling Snow in Summer, Taurus Cerastium instead of Cerastium Tomentosum. Beats the heck out of me where I came up with that whopper. But I repeated it many times in my blog for the whole world (all three of you) to see.

Here is an image of my PROBLEM GARDEN, just to show how little I know. I just keep throwing more lamb's ear in it because everyone knows that silver is always right- no? The only thing I have done right in this garden is to buy that stunning Purple Smokebush. I need to make more mistakes like that!

My motto is to always say it, and do it with authority.... then no one will question you. (Mostly because those who know better, know that there is no point in telling a gardening fool anything.)

It Is Easy to Overlook Quiet Friends

I spend so much time thinking and working on my long border garden that I frequently overlook my true blue stand of white birches. They take minimal care- occasionally whacking out the suckers at their base. They always look good, but no flashy colors or display of lavish foliage. They just offer up their luminous white trunks every year and every season.

They are the state tree in NH so they are easy to dismiss as an obvious choice for our yards and somehow unworthy of a serious gardener's attention. I also happen to have them springing up all over the place. But these facts don't mitigate that this particular clump of trees is really quite elegant. They lack the height and girth of a long established clump, but I am hoping this means I will have them a good while longer. They don't freeze solid like many trees so are very susceptible to the weight of wet snow and ice. The bigger and taller they are, the more likely they will to be felled by the late spring snows.

As I sat on my bench this evening these birches whispered my name while the border garden was hooting and hollering. I turned my full attention to them this evening and gave them a little "hello, friend" back.

Islands Are Good, Peninsulas are Better

I was checking through Renegade Gardner's website and I realized he had the solution to my border garden problem.

When I moved to this house 3 summers ago I inherited a lot of the previous owners taste (read problems). She had plunked down shrubs all over the lawn so it looked like a miniature golf course. I spent the first summer digging them up and either replanting them or giving them away. Clearly someone had told her that island gardens are the new "in" thing. She put in a couple that were the size of a coffee table. That is fine if you garden on 1/8 acre. But my property is, quite literally, a golf course.... a huge flat expanse. It was a golf course for the Inn across the street until the late 60's.

I had enlarged the island garden thinking that scale was the problem. It helped a lot, but still not right. I had added a few curves to the border garden to soften the unrelenting straightness of it. Still not quite right. Renegade Gardener suggested attaching the lone island to the rest of the garden with large sweeping curves... invite the island "to the party."

So that is what I did. I have discovered that cheap garden hose doesn't work as well to "draw" a line. It crimps and doesn't curve gracefully. I somehow muddled through and cut the lines. Yesterday and today I have spent digging up the sod to make that connection. You can see the clumps of sod drying in the sun- almost.

I plan on keeping the new planting low so you can still get the straight shot up the garden to the bench. I need to move that veronica before it is swallowed by the Bath's Pinks. They will be nice in this new peninsula. I am really pleased by this development.

I took a break as thunderstorms were rolling in, showered, and grabbed an early glass of celebratory wine. I went out with Henry to survey the day's work. Le boyfriend sneaked this shot through a screened window of me "contemplating." I think the peninsula is thin. I will need to widen it as the curve is too tight for the riding mower and it somehow looks skimpy.

Nevertheless- a good day's work.

Why I Do It

Sometimes I think about how much time and money I put into my garden and wonder why I do it. It can be back breaking labor and I live someplace where hardly anyone ever gets to see the results. It is mostly just for myself. Why do I get so absorbed in my latest purchase (black lace elderberry. Wonderful- no?) Why do I think so hard about where to put it? And what will it look like in 10 years? Will I still be in this house? Will the next owner just let everything go back to grass?

My hands are a lost cause. Nails are short and beat. The edges are stained. Another gardener gave me the tip of bleaching your hands before a big social event but you want to save that for very special events as it makes your nails even more brittle. It is much better to stand with your arms folded and hands tucked neatly underneath. I keep my toenails painted a dark color to lessen the effect of dirt stained edges. My hairdresser comments on how bleached out my hair is- despite almost constantly wearing a hat. I am a mess.

But I look up at Bald Sunapee in the distance through my cheesy arbor and it makes me smile. My whole body relaxes ever so slightly... even with my fingers cramped up from pulling sod all day. I look around and see more work to be done, but it doesn't seem a burden. Just working towards that goal of perfection and probably never reaching it.

My garden is full of stories- mistakes, successes, projects not yet started. Sometimes those things are all rolled into one. This little white edged hosta is my orphan hosta. Two years ago NH experienced devastating flooding. Small rivers over flowed, people drowned, houses and roads were lost, rivers cut new paths. My mother was walking along the Piscataquog River in Goffstown looking at the swollen stream. She found a sprig of hosta, clearly washed down from a home upstream. She gave it to me. Like some forlorn puppy or kitten I put it in my garden even though I didn't really need it or want it. I have moved it a few times as it has never really flourished, but I can't bring myself to rip it up and throw it away. I keep it because I like it and I like its story.

I like gardening too. I can't help it. It is primal. I want to make something out of nothing. Something of beauty and pleasure. At least to me.

The Birds and the Bees, and Other Critters

The invasion of the Rose Chafer Beetles continues, unabated. I have considered applying for a FEMA grant, but it somehow feels as if it would belittle the actual devastation in Iowa. Here they are attacking an unopened bud.

And this is what the blossoms look like mid-attack. It is so dis- heartening. They have started in on my roses and le boyfriend's potatoes. Next they will be eating the birch trees.

I take heart that the King Birds are picking a few off, but like Henry, their appetites do not exceed the supply. We also have an influx of Cedar Waxwings, one of my personal favorites, to take advantage of the fruiting trees in the yard. Le boyfriend had to rescue one tangled up in the netting that protects the strawberries. It was quite calm as he cut the netting from his neck and wings.

The Sphinx Moths have also made their appearance. Here is one supping from a pink. His wings are beating so quickly that they disappear. I remember the first time I saw one I was confused that a hummingbird had 6 legs. I have gotten a little smarter since then.

Here is a Swallowtail having a grand old time in the Bath's Pinks. I saw five at once on this stand of flowers. They were also humming with bees.... pardon the pun, or not.

Life is, Indeed, Rich

HERE'S LOOKING AT YOU KID....

Despite the fiasco of the 2008 invasion of Rose Chafer Beetles, I needed to go out and take a look after dinner. My garden was still there and from a distance the peonies are still lovely. I have a large double white which is stunning.. and right as I had decided that my garden didn't have enough white, there it was.

But I took the long inspection route around, so I could postpone the up-close look at the devastation. Henry followed along snurfling at the plants. I approached my Scarlett O'Hara and lingered to look at my new "Blue Carpet" sedum. Henry snurfled at the passing irises. He was very intent- snurfling the leaves, then vacuuming the ground. Hey! He is eating something!

It took a second to sink in but my dog was vacuuming the Rose Chafer Beetles off the plants and eating them. So I tried picking a few off and dropping them on the ground for him.... gone! Then I bowed down the heads of a few daisies loaded with beetles, and ppphhhttt.... gone! I could practically hear Mick Jagger in the distance ... "you can't always get what you want."

Ahhh.... sweet revenge. While I don't think Henry will really check these beetles, it is somehow very satisfying that he likes to eat them. I know I have a true partner in the garden.

And, perhaps somewhere out there, God does exist...

In Defiance, And Of Henry Mitchell

I got home late tonight, chatted with le boyfriend, ate and then headed to the garden for a second glass of wine and an opportunity to unwind. I found that some new golden oregano plants were looking a little wilty. This is a amazing as yesterday was overcast and the night was off and on rain. Today was a little spotty. How could something need MORE water? Nevertheless, facts are facts and I grabbed my watering can and started lifting and toting.

That is when I spotted the Rose Chafer Beetles in my peonies. This is the first year that I have had peonies blossom and not be defiled by this vile insect. My Scarlett O'Hara was spectacular, the Seashell glorious, but then things fell apart. The other unnamed peonies now look flea bitten. I know what comes next-mushy brown blossoms full of bugs taking a drag off a shared Pall Mall while asking each other if "it was good for you?"

Just that morning, despite my rush to get out the door, I picked up the book I was reading and finished the chapter while standing up. It is Henry Mitchell's "The Essential Earthman." He died 15 years ago and this will be the third time I have read this book, but he is one of my favorite garden writers. The chapter is called On The Defiance of Gardeners and ended thusly:
Gardeners are the ones who ruin after ruin get on with the high defiance of Nature herself, creating, in the very face of her chaos and tornado, the bower of roses and the pride of irises. It sounds very well to garden a "natural way." You may see the natural way in any desert, any swamp, any leech-filled laurel hell. Defiance, on the other hand, is what makes gardeners.

I know it is fruitless, but I start the process of rooting through the blossoms and crushing the beetles till my fingers are sticky and stained and their jointed legs are stuck under my nails. I can't stop them... at best I might slow them. But I need to try to save my beautiful peonies.

And I will do it all over again next year.....defiantly.

Cute Is As Cute Does

I just bought this positively adorable stone crop "Blue Carpet" yesterday. I can't decide if it is irresistible or looks like bread mold. I thought it would look good in my planter but I think I will wait to see if it can actually make it through the winter in the ground, without the added stress of being tossed into my compost heap while still in a planter to see if it will make it through the bitter cold.

Well as if the stone crop wasn't enough to set the cuteometer swinging, I supplemented with the little violet korena Sylvetta Mauve to the right of it. I can hardly bear this combination!

I backed up the shot to give the total effect. This is what I call succulent way- because of all the hens & chicks and sedums lining the little path. The arrangement of rocks and miniature plants borders on twee, but it embodies the magic of gardening that first captured my imagination as a small child.

I started thinking about the cuteness factor in gardens while reading Girl Gone Gardening who makes no apologies for it. Black Swamp Girl asked if people had purchased plants because of their names. When I looked at the Mountain Laurel by my front steps I had a flashback from when I moved it from out in my field. I found its nursery tag ringing a lower branch and it was still legible. It clearly said "Tinkerbell."

Perhaps it is just my cross to bear in the garden.... exiled to cute-land. I suppose it works well with my freckles and buck teeth.

The Latest, And The Greatest

This is my new favorite tool posing next to my old favorite tool. The new one is called a cobra head- for obvious reasons. My old favorite is a classic asparagus picker with a little arc of metal attached to serve as a lever. They are both good for the surgical removal of a weed that is nesting amongst precious plant material.

I bought the cobra head at Real Green Goods in Concord. I had actually gone in to buy some pet safe bug spray for Henry who is having his delicate underbelly eaten alive anytime we venture outside. There it was in a display. Nothing like a curved piece of metal to catch a girl's eye. The owner said she had one and loved it- perfect for maintaining an edge. It claims to be "an extension of your hand." It was a little pricey so I thought I would buy it as a gift for le boyfriend. He thought it looked silly so I ended up with it anyways.

I finally tried it today and, by golly, it has a quite natural feel. It is very easy to use and offers a precision strike at offending weeds. It gets way down to their long trailing roots and works like a charm. I hate to cast aside my old friend, the asparagus picker, but this little beauty has got it all.

Two Thumbs up for the Cobra Head.

In The Pink!

I know that Black Swamp Girl thinks that pink is a little too girly for her garden, but I am secure enough in my tough guy credentials to plant pink everywhere. Although ... I will agree with her that the pink of Husker Red Penstemon will leave your eyes unsatisfied. But the clear pinks of this mountain laurel right next to my front steps is enough to make your heart sing.

I have also never been able to resist Cheddar Pinks. I have also never been able to grow them very well ... until now. Here they are in the little pathway I created through the fence to connect le boyfriend's large vegetable garden and our backyard. It saves us the 3.5 mile walk around the fence so we can talk to each other periodically. So this little pathway is use frequently. Those pinks have stood up to a certain amount of abuse, wheelbarrow traffic and other indignities and still look absolutely adorable. So life's little lesson here is to not under estimate the toughness of a plant (or person) by their stature, pinkness and cuteness factor.

Now if you think I am a woosy, ask my friend Michelle what a tough guy I am - able to walk 5 miles through the cobbled streets of Rome in high heels so she could wear my comfy shoes on her blistered feet.

Personal Best

I went to get a hair cut today and nothing like a room full of women talking about child rearing to make your mind turn to other things .....

... Like your vehicle. I am, admittedly, not a car girl. They hold no allure for me, but they do need to be practical. I bought my Honda Element 3 1/2 years ago when I had a much larger and hairier dog and I had resigned myself to taking over the corporate end of my business. It is the perfectly designed art delivery car- square. Not to mention how easy it is to clean dog fur out of. And it was only a mild concession when it came to mpg- especially compared to other SUV/minivan type vehicles. It was rated at 21-24 mpg.

Since I bought it, it has consistently gotten 21-27 mpg depending on the weather. This was terrible compared to my previous car- a Toyota Corolla- which got 32-38. With all the tips out there on how to save gas by adjusting your driving style I thought I would give it a try. I slowed to 60 mph on the highway, tried to coast to stops and avoided quick starts. On my recent trip to the Encaustic Conference in Beverly, Massachusetts I was able to get 30 mpg. Yippee!

That was mostly highway miles though. The real challenge would be to up my mileage during my regular commute. I have been consciously driving in a very deliberate manner. Slow starts, coasting, using cruise control when I could, etc. Today I checked my mileage and I got 28.23 mpg. Wow! I wonder what else I could do to make it better?

I was chatting with my friend, Louise about my experiment and independently she had started the same experiment. She also has a long commute. She has been able to up her mileage since changing her driving style. We also reached another independent conclusion about slow driving: it relieves a lot of the stress of commuting. Perhaps it is because you are no longer trying to move faster or pass people. It has the same effect as listening to a book on tape while driving- just a completely different focus.

It also makes me feel a little better about driving such an outlandishly large car.

They Grow Up So Fast...

I am downstairs in the main gallery today trying to photograph 3 boxes full of enamels. My little dog has stretched to the limit on his leash and fallen asleep on the stairs where he can keep an eye on me and prevent people from walking through the gallery without waking him up to do an inspection. You can see one of his meaty little paws under his belly. I sometimes like to kiss them until I think too hard about where they have been.

Last night I had to go out with my partner and our new hire for her 1 year review..... which requires drinks and nachos. What to do with my little boy for the one hour this meeting lasts? I decided to take the plunge and leave him in the gallery while we crossed the street to imbibe. I moved any precious art out of his reach and hoped for the best.

For any other dog this would not be considered mistreatment-left inside an air conditioned room with a bowl of water. But they are not Henry. He is so use to going everywhere with me that he takes it for granted that I will not leave him alone. As we exited the rear door of the restaurant I could see his furry head asleep on the top step in the gallery. I walked about ten feet and I saw his head pop up and his tail start wagging. I unlocked the door of the gallery and came in to a howling dog. Of course it took 5 minutes of cuddling and reassurance before we could head to the car and on to home & dinner. Nevertheless I am so proud of him for not howling the whole time I was gone.

Sometimes I can't find someone to watch him for an hour or two. Sometimes the weather doesn't permit me to leave him in the car when I run errands. His new found maturity will give me a lot more flexibility as far as what I can do with him. He has come a long way since I got him last July.

I love my dog.

A Day In The Life Of My Garden, June 10, 2008

This was taken about 7 Am this morning. We had two thunder showers during the evening. The plants were thankful for the rain and the coolness. It caused the day to start off steamy though- you can see it in these photos.

This is my Scarlett O'Hara Peony- a beauty, no? I have had this plant (or a piece of it) for about 14 years. I am still a fan of single peonies because I think their centers add so much to their whole form. I am also pleased that I actually have a peony blossom worth enjoying. In years past, the 7 plagues of Bradford have brought in rose chafer beetles, which you would assume would eat roses. Ahhhh, but no, they prefer potatoes and peonies. To le boyfriend's chagrin, they actually EAT the potato plant. They prefer peonies for more sensual pleasures like procreating and defecation. Beetles piled two and three high, legs thrown back in ecstasy took up residence in new blossoms and then defiled them with big, gloopy piles of brown glop (to be redundant). For three years my beloved peonies have been a source of hand wringing and wailing. This is the first year I have enjoyed their blossoms in this home.

But to look on the bright side- I did learn to kill with my bare hands and with an utter disregard for life. I think these are essential skills for any gardener.

It's Too Darn Hot

Yesterday morning I had a chance to quickly peruse my garden before leaving for work and what do my wondering eyes behold? One of my poppies opened! I knew the weather was slated to go into the nineties so I held no hope for seeing this particular bloom again.

It seems that in every garden I have ever cultivated, the poppies bloom just before a severe heat wave. I have learned to take in their beauty in quick gulps in the cool of the morning .... for they are a temporal joy.

Sure enough, this is what I found at the end of the day. Not only were all the petals on the ground, but the neck was burnt and mushy, the head swinging. Ahh... the indignities of being a Gardener.

Morning Visitor

I was walking back to my morning perch with my second cup of coffee. As usual I glanced out the window to see if anything unusual was happening ... like all the plants revolting because of the high heat and taking off for more temperate Canada. (At least until November rolls around.) What do I spy? The soil in my garden was moving. I have an annual visit from this painted turtle who hunts around the whole estate looking for the appropriate nesting site.

I tried to take a photo of her in the garden flinging dirt everywhere, but for starters, she is dirt colored, then she was sitting in the dirt, and to top it off she had flung dirt all over herself. It was a study in futility so I just took this photo of her escaping my gaze. They were taken through the screen so they are a little hazy to boot.

This is another photo and you can see the destruction she caused to the right of the stone/paver.


It wasn't much of a high speed pursuit as I had a chance to finish my coffee and go get dressed. I grabbed Henry to go outside for a preliminary peak at the world before our morning walk. She had only moved about 10 feet. This photo isn't much better as far as making out her silhouette.

Well... nothing earth shattering, just one of life's little pleasures.

My Morning Walk

I see some pretty nice things on my morning walk with Henry, but I never bring my camera so I don't get to share them. I finally remembered to tote it along. This is a home about a mile from me. The gentleman who did it is a certified heath/heather nut. He has a starting garden out back where he cultivates these beauties. He has done such a nice job of combining the evergreens and heathers to create a sea of texture and color. It is a very understated and formal look.

While I wouldn't want to garden in it- not enough variety for me- I love looking at it. I also couldn't have the heaths and heathers as they are so susceptible to wind burn and my home is unfairly exposed to the cold winds of winter. Although he is only a mile away he has the protection of surrounding trees.












This is just a rhododendron that is growing in the woods not too far off the road. It is so perfectly placed - hanging over a small stream - that it seems impossible that it is random. The nearest house is through some fairly dense pine trees and pucker brush, so perhaps when the area was more open someone planted it. The color is the most subtle lavender/white. I have dubbed the color "moon glow." Every spring I look for it to bloom.

Now this ... is clearly a weed. There are several that grow in a certain spot and it is the most interesting plant. These little umbilliferate forms will pop open into blossoms soon. It has tendrils that grab onto adjacent plants in its quest to get closer to the sun. I think it is absolutely beautiful. I have taken a bunch of photos and hope (some day) to paint a picture of it. Does anyone know what it is?

Beautiful Rhubarb!

Isn't that rhubarb beautiful? So tall, so handsome, so come hither in the way it brushes lightly against the fence ... in a way that would make more timid plants blush with embarrassment. But not that rhubarb. And the Taurus Cerastium is really working out well. I can see it all the way across the yard- such a beautiful silver. In a few more years it will spread enough to really make a statement. Perhaps you will be able to see it from Google Earth.

My island garden is looking mighty fine too. The Bath's Pinks are about to blossom. A few here and there have opened. I love their little black heads swaying in the breeze.

And Just Because He Is So Adorable

Agoraphobic Wannabe

I had to drive down to Beverly, Massachusetts this morning as I was a presenter at the second annual Encaustic Conference at Montserrat College. I had hoped to take pictures but it just didn't happen. So instead I am going to regale you with beautiful pictures of the highway coming back home. This is Route 93 or maybe 95. They sort of look alike. They are loaded with cars weaving in and out and generally behaving badly.... unlike certain drivers who take pictures while commandeering their vehicles. At least I waited until I was off of 1A or whatever it was which was like trying to drive through the food court in a mall.

This is the split at 93 and 101 to the seacoast. Lots of orange highway barrels that say "Danger, Danger, put down your cameras now!"


Ahhh.... This is 89. I take this route every night to get home from work. This is my favorite corner and to me it says "home." Route 202 has split off and we leave the bedroom communities of Hopkinton & Contoocook behind. The highway empties out and the mountains start to scootch together so they can give you a hug. The mountains get more and more demanding like that the farther north you go. Always asking for a hug, or a kiss or a cuddle or something. I don't mind- they are good huggers.

This is my road... that is my stone wall on the right. Perhaps I have been away from the city too long, but this scene lets me unwind. I don't mind driving here so much. It is far less stressful. I would even go so far as to say, I prefer it.

Except for the ticks.

Salvation In A Bottle

I don't normally consider myself a dainty blossom when it comes to the great outdoors. Weather? I love it! Cold, rain, snow, sleet, fog- bring it on! There is no such thing as bad weather- just bad clothing & bad attitude. So who knew that I could be brought so low by something that barely registers in an atomic scale?

What is this beast that brings the mighty Sarah to her knees you ask? Pollen. More specifically Pine Pollen. And what can something as innocuous as yellow dust do to the mighty Sarah? Better ask- what can't it do? My headache is as big as Wisconsin, maybe even combined with South Dakota. My post nasal drip has given me a sore throat and earaches. I cough all night so I am sleep deprived. If I am sleep deprived, so is le boyfriend, which causes general crankiness at Chez Casino Gardens. Then there is the pollen complete makeover including dripping nose and dark, dark eye bags. Not a pretty sight.

But le boyfriend, who is smarter than le Sarah, suggested a saline nasal spray to cleanse the sinus passages. Being a poo-pooer from way back, I thought this would do nothing to alleviate my suffering and all the whining that goes with it. But in an effort to shut le boyfriend up I did as he suggested. Oh my goodness, revelation and conversion! I woke up this morning with only a minor headache & sore throat. So I have found salvation in a small plastic bottle and may be able to make it through this hellish season with a smile. Yippee!

Sometimes I am so funny I could just die....

This is a thought that will never see the light of day so I figure I would at least put it out there. Perhaps someone else can use it.

Le Boyfriend is a library trustee in town. They are trying to come up with a float for the Fourth of July parade, which is a really big deal here. They have usually done a float which plays up the summer reading program's book which everyone has to read, but liability has finally caught up with it. No more children are allowed to ride on tractors going 5 mph through town. The librarian has decided that instead all the trustees will carry large plastic buckets which they will beat with sticks to make noise. I am still trying to figure out the connection between 5 retired people beating drums and promoting usership of the library... but whatever.

Then! It popped into my head full blown like a Donald Trump Tower. Why couldn't the trustees just march in formation with their noses buried in a book, paying no attention to the parade and audience around them? And the cherry on top will be the librarian carrying a big placard that says "SHHHH." I laughed so hard I could hardly stand it.

Le boyfriend said it would never fly and that I would be the only one in the world who would catch the humor and irony. Really- isn't humor and irony what librarians are all about?

Well, I am still giggling at the thought of it. I hope someone out there can use this idea for a parade .