Dry spell

Relaxation

Wi Quan Li

There's no shame in asking for help, and Mr. Sunny Lee's garden service is stopping by this morning to give me an estimate on some of the rougher chores around here, like edging the sidewalks, a nasty job we have neither the tools nor the desire to do.  I'd like to look like the lady above, instead of the old garden hag I've become.  Maybe when Mr. Sunny Lee gets here?

Mr. Lee sounds like an eager beaver on the phone, but I've had so many "interesting" experiences with gardeners over the years, it became less trouble to just do it myself.  My heart was broken when Saint Geraldo of the Hedge went back to Mexico, and no one can ever fill his shoes.  But everything (including me) is looking a bit ragged so it's time to cast the net for another garden service.  (I think I mixed about five metaphors in that last paragraph.)

Anyway, it's been so long since it rained, we're forgetting what precipitation looks like in Seattle.  The daily watering is an enormous chore, mostly because I forget from summer to summer just how much work dozens of pots are, and add a few more each year.  While I love the bonsai plants, they're as demanding as babies when it gets hot.

Weathermen are teasing us with the possibility of a little shower this morning, but it doesn't look too promising.