This is the scene in February, mere moments before I took a spectacular fall. All that snow cunningly conceals a puddle which I KNEW was there, as it's there 9 months of the year, but somehow forgot just long enough to step onto its slickly iced surface and go flying. My experience was caught on video, as I had the camera turned to movie at the time, but I think I'll just not share that. It's a blur as the camera makes a lovely arc through the air, and then, as it lands a short distance from my suddenly prone body, a lot of groaning, some slightly dramatic clutching of the ground, and a final, belated shot of the dog making a sortie back to see what was taking me so long.
The puddle complex in warmer times.
Which is why I am rather impatient for spring. I love cold weather, but when snow conspires with ice to maim, you really don't need a horse to hurt yourself. It's funny; I have the typical fear issues with riding that most sane adults have, but my worst falls have been sans horse. Which is something I reflected on after another ice slide a few years ago. As I lay with my head in the street, watching a SEPTA bus heaving toward my skull, I resolved to never be afraid on horseback again. I didn't think of making a more sensible pledge, and resolving to move to a climate without ice.
A winter pansy, looking beaten but unbowed. Granted, it was a mild winter, but I'm still impressed by their survival. Also the decorative cabbage.
My gardens have always exhibited a lack of overall cohesion. I believe my harsher critics think this is due to some stupendous lack of vision, but they're wrong. I'm well aware that a deep purple pansy and a pale lavender cabbage are not natural compliments. The thing is, I like both of them. I'm an intensely personal gardener; that it pleases my eye is the goal.
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