This December being what it was, the President of the Garden Club snorted to herself, it looked as if the crocuses would be emerging any day now.
"A nice winter I don't think," the President of the Garden Club told the forsythia, "at this rate you'll be blooming your head off any day now."
I am the sister of the President of the Garden Club. Long a dream, it is still hard for me to credit.
Saturday, December 5, 2015
Saturday, November 21, 2015
meanwhile
"You seen one cornucopia, you seen 'em all," muttered the President of the Garden Club, twirling florist wire around yet another cascade of grapes for the harvest supper centerpiece.
meanwhile
Yes, thought the President of the Garden Club, she had sunk to this, making festive table wreaths for the ladies' auxiliary holiday potluck.
Friday, November 20, 2015
meanwhile
The President of the Garden Club preferred to be as charitable as possible when invited to view others' autumnal displays, but, oh, those everlasting hydrangias!
Sunday, March 22, 2015
and then
"I don't care," the President of the Garden Club muttered, turning away from the outdoor thermometer. "I'm never wearing my winter coat again!"
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
meanwhile. . .
The President of the Garden Club knew she ought to finish those dilly beans she put up last year before starting anything.
Monday, February 23, 2015
and meanwhile. . .
"That's torn it," said the President of the Garden Club, "I'm fixing to start those seeds anyway, spring or no spring."
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
meanwhile. . .
The President of the Garden Club about had a conniption fit when she thought about that Punxsutawney Putz or whatever the damn groundhog was called.
Monday, February 16, 2015
sending out an sos
Meredith glanced out to sea. The 11:00
ferry was visible, headed into Old Harbor. Bobby would be at the taxi stand.
She turned up the volume on her phone and rang his cell. She could not get used to interrupting
someone as they were driving in their car or eating in a restaurant. But,
whatever.
“Merry.”
“They searched
your car?”
“They searched
my car, my person and my record.”
“Oh dear.” She
pronounced it “deah.”
“You got that
right.”
“Joseph says
we’re on our own.”
“Big surprise.”
“No, he will
help us as much as he is able to, but we have to find out what happened. He’s
just trying to keep the people from the mainland from muddying the waters.”
“Running interference.”
“Yes. At least
we know the cast of characters.”
“Are you
referring to Kate?”
“Or Katie or
whatever her name is. You know who I mean!”
“Gallia est
divisa in tres partes.”
“What?”
“The
Islanders, the Summer People and the Day Trippers. Well, actually, the Summer
People could be subdivided into Cottagers and Renters. And the Winter
People—Islanders, Neo Year Rounders—former Cottagers turned retirees and their
children who couldn’t get it together elsewhere, weirdos, drifters. The boat is
docking. I’ll come by later.”
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