On Friday afternoon, Ruth accompanied me to the city. We met the instructor of the Level 1 obedience class we'll begin next Monday, and paid our registration deposit. We also met the instructor's two well-trained dogs. One of them is 16 years old!
Next it was off to the diocesan offices for a meeting. Because it was late on Friday of a holiday weekend, the building was almost deserted, except for the five of us. Six, counting my wee dog. Ruth was well-behaved and impressed her new friends, but at 4 p.m. she started thinking about supper and kept asking me if we could go home, please.
We were having one last quick trot across the grass before getting into the car when the Bishop drove into the parking lot. So Ruth met the Bishop. And the Bishop met Ruth.
I spent all of Saturday outdoors. I divided and mulched the strawberry bed, transplanted two more roses (a Charles de Mills and a Double Blush Burnet, both growing on their own roots), transplanted two peony bushes and a fringed bleeding heart.
That night we watched The Last Picture Show on DVD. I'd never really seen it--which I can't explain. I mean, I went to film school! It definitely lived up to its reputation.
Sunday the rain fell in buckets, luckily for all my transplants. After church I was tempted by the holiday sales to visit the mall, and went to Borders to use my 30% discount coupon. (Bought a great writing book I mean to blog on soon...) And my favourite garden centre was having a "Barn Sale," where I found lots of great items at amazing discounts. Including this compact stone statue of St. Fiacre, one of the patron saints of gardeners. A steal at only $10--orginally priced at $32.
He's now joined the collection of garden statuary. I've already got one saintly chap, the other patron saint of gardeners--St. Adelard. At least, I was told that's who he is, so that's what I call him.
They both hold a shovel, but Fiacre has a Bible, and Adelard a flower (some sort of primrose, I think.) Fiacre was Irish, and Adelard was French, a first cousin to Charlemagne. But for all I know, both of my statues represent St. Fiacre.
Yesterday wasn't a holiday in Britain, so the chap had actual work to do on one of his UK projects. I faffed about, tidying the house and messing about with potted plants and watching the latest crop of busy young chipmunks.
My almost ever-blooming azalea is doing it's thing already, about a month earlier than last year.
At one point, while Ruth was alone in the backyard, she let out one of her "Oh, no, it's a monster!" barks. I went down to investigate. She'd met a toad. He had puffed himself up defensively, all curled in a ball, and I think his immobility freaked her out. Soon he uncurled himself, and I took his photo.
Then, with a stick, I gently prodded him through a gap in the fence.
Ruth loves toads and frogs. At dusk and after dark, she plays with them in the grass. They leap away from her, and she bounds after them, leaping like a little frog herself. Fun to watch. I don't think she hurts them. I've not noticed any little carcasses lying about.
Lots of busy-ness ahead. A meeting today, dinner with my chap downtown, a meeting tonight, a meeting tomorrow morning, a guest for lunch...must dash to prepare for all this. And make a Key Lime pie!