The view outside my window this second day of the new year inspired me to write about it.
Other than the few potted plants I brought inside my gardening is on hiatus. Sadly, the parsley plant didn't make it. Evidently it didn't have enough recuperation time outside after those caterpillars ate all its leaves. I did bring in my bay leaf plant and it's struggling. If I can keep it going through the cold months it should have a better go next spring and I won't have to buy a new plant! I also brought in my thyme and rosemary plants. They're doing very well.
I had an idea for an apron I want to submit to Northern Sun. They've asked for ideas and if I can get my son Tom to help me with the graphics I'll submit it. It has to do with herbs and if it's accepted I'll let you know.
Now for the poem I wrote:
Happy New Year
It's like the frosting on the cake,
the finishing touch, covering up
all the rough edges, the mistakes,
the ugliness that bare spaces announce
without impunity, without grace or style.
The bare bones of nature aren't always
attractive; snow blankets them with
this pristine layer of softness;
a layer of hope that the New Year
will be better than the last.