Well, it's in the low 20s out there, so my flower garden is toast. I'm sad, but also ready to move on. Today, I'll clear out the frostbitten plants, dig up dahlia roots for storage, and do another round of leaf raking. Meanwhile, Tom will install the walkway edging and finish spreading gravel, and then the new beds-in-waiting will be ready for Thursday's soil delivery.
During my walk yesterday I noticed a new sign outside a nearby house: Oysters for Sale. We all love oysters, so when Tom got home I started excitedly telling him, "Oh, by the way: oysters! I was going for a walk . . . " He interrupts me. "You found oysters on the street?" I burst out laughing. At this point in our life, it seems he believes I can find anything on the street. He started making a list of all the things I've brought home: wild mushrooms (from woods, cemeteries, fields, campgrounds), fiddlehead ferns (from woods, lying on the sidewalk), a fresh marijuana bud (also lying on the sidewalk), a grouse (stuck to the grill of my car) . . . Why not oysters too? His confidence in me is very flattering.
Anyway, the upshot of our comic conversation is that we decided to buy some of those oysters for tonight. Here's hoping they're excellent.