The fushia and white peonies have now gone and replacing them are orange, orange! lilies. The Japanese Snowbell is fading away, but the roses in yellows and pinks are everywhere. I don't even like roses. But they've come in so fat and healthy, the size of grapefruits and not what I imagine old ladies to dote over at all. I suppose I'll keep them.
The chard and spinach which I thought surely would crisp, wither and die with the heatspell, all made it thanks to heavy watering and specially placed umbrellas. Not sure what exactly it was (all three?) but today it seemed they'd all grown half a foot. Yay! Mr Owen Fluoride will be most happy to know his snacks are safe.
I spent the evening dancing hula at Esther Short Park with my hula sisters and readying for the upcoming Hapa show at the Oregon Zoo. In spite of the cigarette butts, vomit, and odd assortment of local punks and crazies dancing at the park brings, it was a lovely evening. Home to find Mr.C waiting with an ice cold Manhattan and dinner. Wow, what a treat!