Wildflowers. Porches. And stuff.

I really like the Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden. A lot. It is green and sometimes shady, and the bits that aren't shady have prairie things, which I like, and there are benches in good places for benches, and if you bring a pameladean, things will have a certain order to them, where the flowers and the dragonflies are comprehensible. At least the non-yellow ones are. (pameladean is apparently a Green Lantern. You heard it here first, folks.) I will want to go back and see that again with different wildflowers in bloom.

The porch guys are -- be still my heart -- fixing the porch. They came yesterday when they were supposed to and did the stuff that could be done yesterday, and then they came back today and are doing more stuff. It's really astonishing what a load off my mind all this is. I thought I had put it out of my head for the winter, but I hadn't. I think it was the lack of snow. Snow makes everything more tolerable, I think. Anyway, I have some faith that the painters and the driveway people will show up roughly on time and perform the work approximately as specified, and this is a great comfort.

It turns out that I have once again chosen a book that will not write itself. Go figure.