At 7:53, the Sun rose into a heavy mist which it quickly dispersed, turning Sunday into one of those brilliant Fall days that draw you outside.
It would have been a great day for a “Fall ride”, but Grant was helping a neighbor and because of the frost I wanted to check the flower beds to see what fatalities there had been….
Still pretty in the frost, the salvias did not survive…
and the marigolds were not too happy, though some will struggle on.
No chance for my zinnias. It was a tough year for them. First they were savaged by groundhogs.
When finally they pushed their way up, some of them lost their heads to another hungry creature, deer perhaps.
Just three blooms succeeded, only to be killed by frost.
Next year I must find a different way to keep them safe!
Survivors, for now: Wallflowers, Sweet Alysium, larkspur and in spite of the particular frosting it got, fiddleneck.
But they are looking a little less than enthusiastic.
Asters and and the hardy Shastas (daisies).
It was my intention to remove plants that had not survived and then return indoors, but as I said, it was such a nice afternoon. So I cast me eye about to see if there was some other small job I could accomplish…
…and my eyes lit on the bushes…the really scruffy ones at the back.
It seemed a bit ambitious but I went closer to get a better look and I thought “I can reach most of this…”
So I did. Clip, clip, clip until my hand actually couldn’t squeeze the clippers anymore. Then I thought it was a good time to give it up and go inside for a nice warm shower…
…and perhaps a bit of a lie-down with Toby.
But first I was confronted by the latest murder.
A severely mangled mouse lay in my path.
Living in the country with cats…one has sometimes to deal with these things, as I recently mentioned.
Not long after, we sat down to supper during which Grant mentioned that Willow was climbing up “her” chair.
And soon after that I was collecting cat bowls and came upon what Willow had done on her chair.
Mopping up hairballs and vomit and a drop of illicit pee, that all goes along with cat ownership.
But mopping up regurgitated morsels of munched mouse, that really goes beyond the pale, as they say.
Willow insists it’s circumstantial evidence because I didn’t actually see the vomit project from her mouth.
But I think I know who the killer was.
Thankful for small mercies, as ever, I was just glad she didn’t do it on my bed.