The peonies–(peonies are hands down my favorite flower in the world)–are greening up and developing shoots. Soon, I will be enjoying their bounteous beauty–pinks, maroons, reds–even some candystriped ones! I love everything about peonies, perhaps because their visits are always so brief. I fell in love with them years ago, when I lived in London, and used to buy them from a street vendor–always pink or white, gloriously fat and floppy. I called them ‘floozy’ flowers, because they were so showy, like an aging, good-natured madam dressed to attract commerce.
Sadie has a touch of arthritis, and the rain makes it worse, so I dosed her with half a dog aspirin this morning. No doubt, she’ll spend a cushy day by the fire, grateful that no one around here is into fox hunting. (That would necessitate running, baying, etc., which is a lot of trouble for an overweight beagle who has been spoiled within an inch of her life.)
Work on the barn continues. Bernice always alerts us vociferously to the arrival of heavy equipment up front. (Also robins, weeds blowing in the wind, those pesky turkeys, quail, moose, and anything else that moves.)
The prince and I met up for a while on Saturday, out at the casino, but he was in frog mode. Such is the way of princes…