There is a at last a rosebud showing a bit of color.
Normally at this time we have lots of roses. Fine Soprano has lots. I haven’t asked Partygirl, but I know that she is usually in the rose competitions and the garden tours, so if there is a problem with her rorses, she usually mentions it.
We have had The Year of the Caterpillar, though, so we are just now beginning to see some bloom. Or at least incipient blooom.
I have some more garden pictures for you. Happy lettuces. Winsome columbine. Stuff like that.
I wanted to tell you about my meeting with the 
university temp lady.
She did not throw me out as the town one did. She was glad to have me. She offered me something right then, which I could not take because it included Saturday, when I will be doing a presentation on Victorian missionary hymns. She sent my resume off to someone who needs an instructional design person.
The pictures that are not of my gardens are from yesterday’s walk. I was thinking, as I strolled through the park, about my attitude toward my job hunt. That is, I am not thinking about what I might enjoy doing, now that I suddenly have completely open possibilities.
I am thinking, here’s what I would like to do. Too bad I can’t do that. Oh, well, what could I stand to do?
That’s a bit sad, isn’t it?
It isn’t as though there is absolutely no need for people who do research and writing and instructional design. Even The Dark Art is an actual field of work that people do. It isn’t as though I want to be a goddess or something.