I have no pictures of jasmine

And I've never been fond of the name "Johnny Jump-ups"
So instead you get to see my own private preparation against the zombie apocalypse

The variety is called Sunspot and it's like a little baby sunflower (although strangely this guy is easily 3.5 feet tall, not 24") It's growing in a pot. Don't worry, flamingos don't like sunflowers.

But bees do. They like the echinacea too. I am appreciating their attentions because it means my cukes and peppers and tomatoes are getting the bee benefit too. (Grumble, the STILL GREEN tomatoes.)

Still trying to not freak out. Too many things to do. Too much to get rid of. Why did I ever get it all in the first place? Things are so comforting some times. Things are tangible artifacts of a time and place, and the memories associated with that.  But they are not people and they're not that time/place either.

Crazy Aunt Purl once had a post that I cannot find right now about things (actually, many posts about things, and they are all good); it was about how she bought things but never had time to actually enjoy them. It was like she was visiting her things on the weekends. This excellently sums up much of my behavior. When I buy things to make myself feel better, I usually end up visiting those things later. I'm tired of not having thing enjoyment, only acquisition.

Maybe this is to say I'm going to be having an enormous yarn sale Real Soon Now. Actually, it's probably going to be a big blowout crafty sale, because I don't just have a yarn stash, oh no. I think I can safely say my marbling days are over, though (fun, but messy).

And, I've been traveling a lot (sigh) and every time I fly on Alaska I laugh at this safety card picture.

Flying lady! Watch those heels!

Irisful

I couldn't think of a good pun today.
These are irises from the Japanese Garden.

Today was roof day, aka scrape all the moss off so we don't look completely negligent. I didn't do this myself, as I was so anxious last weekend my body decided to take over and put the brain in its place and I hurt my back again. Don't worry, it's wasn't that painful, and it's healing, especially with all the damn stretching and yoga I do. Also it worked, and I calmed down. But I still don't really recommend that kind of treatment.

I seem to have nothing to say unless it's about plants or yarn. SO FASCINATING, I KNOW. Now that Yarn Deadline has been met, there is now looming Get Rid Of Stuff Deadline and Call ALL the Contractors Deadline.

Work is driving me batty. And it is not anything that can be fixed by talking to anyone, so my tongue is aching because of the biting. But it's still the last bit of summer, and I'm relishing it, even the 102 degree weather. It  doesn't last long (2 days. Don't judge; I have no air conditioning) and it helps me remember summer when it's cold and miserable outside. Also I enjoy not having to wear sleeves all the time. San Francisco is going to be a bit trying on that front. We'll see. Time to go treat myself to something takeout, as I cannot face another veggie burger from the freezer tonight.

Don't worry be hydrangea

I may have a tiny bit of a "hydrangea problem", as my friends with cameras call it. Mine are almost all blue; we have very acidic soil here, as the constant rains wash out most of the whatever ups the pH and dissolve a lot of things like carbonates in the soil. Good for blueberries and blue hydrangeas. The only pink one is one in a pot I have, and it is slowly going purple.

This week. 

Let me try again. This week, this month, this summer, has been high up on the crazy-o-meter. I should stop being coy about this.

This picture is more iconic, but I'd argue that mine was more accurate, at least in the summer.

We are moving to San Francisco.

Yes, the city. We figured if we're going to all the bother to move to the Bay Area, we might as well try the urban thing out before we're too old & crochety to appreciate it.

So we've been traveling down trying to get an idea of where we might want to live, checking out the neighborhoods and what's scary and what's walkable, and so many other things. We did finally find a place to rent, and now my anxiety needle has almost hit the far right end of the dial worrying that everything will work out with the deposit and the rent and everything. I am trying hard not to worry about it. It isn't working. My, it's another hydrangea picture!

Also, I am Ms. September Dyer in the Twisted Shawlette Club, and I am running around in full beheaded chicken mode dyeing and skeining and labeling. I've been out of town frequently so I've had a less not-at-the-regular-job time to complete them. I am almost done. I hope that everyone likes the color; I think the design is beautiful. Of course I am afraid I will get publicly stoned because everyone will despise the colorway. Because that's how my brain works. Thanks, brain.

Why look, a Fall hydrangea (they fade gradually to pink & brown)

I will miss Portland a lot. I will miss my garden and my plants (I can't take any of them with me. California has very strict import rules because of all the agriculture). I will miss the fine beer and the biking without many hills unless I want them, the lovely calm neighborhood, the bursts of sweetness that are Portland like Sunday Parkways and Mill Ends Park. I will miss the warm-hot summer months and the fresh raspberries and blueberries and blackberries, the farmers market I can walk to, which is currently selling me fresh cherries and blueberries and peaches. Damn, I will miss all the great yarn stores and fabric stores.

That said, I'm anticipating all the new things I can find and experience. And I think that for me it's good to shake things up sometimes, try something new. (Frances does not agree but she doesn't know about it yet. urk. Not looking forward to transporting her.)

But meantime my head is trying to worry itself into fine little confetti pieces. Time to try more distractions. Come hell or hibiscus.