Nom de Plume

There is, of course, nothing quite so tiresome as someone explaining why she hasn’t been posting more regularly — so I won’t bother, except to say that it’s been a crazy week with no end in sight. But spring is really here! We spent Sunday working in the yard; I cleared off the deck, started fantasizing about heirloom vegetables again and planted a bunch of seeds hoping that this year I won’t kill my container garden. I call them pots; Steve calls them torture chambers. Mean, but true. In any case, he has his hands full;we have a mole. He’s dug several holes in the backyard, and when we stuck a hose down one of them, it ran for 45 minutes before leaking through the containing wall. So he’s a man with a mission: to kill the furry little bastard. It’s very entertaining. Actually, I think the mole’s just moved next door; I was talking to Nicki over the fence when she looked down and said with some surprise, “Oh, I think I have a mole.” Yep — huge pile o’ dirt at her feet. How can something so small create such a mess?