The garden the garden. Everything in life seems so much more wonderful when I have my fingers in the earth. I weeded around my daffodils, planted garlic and planted some pansies. I harvested some jerusalem artichokes. I had thought the plant would yield a dinner's worth but actually there is a bonza harvest underneath that decaying stalk. This week is likely to feature more jerusalem artichokes. Tonight's dinner, of garlic, onions, bacon, kale and j.artichokes, with lashings of butter and some parsley to boot, was most delicious. Recipe ideas very welcome.
I have almost finished the red corduroy skirt. All it needs is a hem. But as I sit here wearing it, I have two thoughts:
1. I may splash out on a leg wax. I don't see why anyone should have to remove any bodily hair just because of social conventions/expectations, but at the same time I find I want to hide my legs when they are hairy. Which is most of the time. In 13 years, I have removed leg hair twice, but both of these times were in the last 12 months. Perhaps it's part of turning 40 and re-evaluating my landscape.
2. I need to turn the fabric up in order to hem it. This mean that even when I sit like a lady, my knees and a bit of thigh are visible, not elements of flesh I've bared in a gazillion years. I may make a false hem of some kind, or even add something else on the bottom.