Old

This weekend I was at an (amazing) little concert of Congolese music for parents and kids and it struck me as I shimmied shamelessly - not for the first time - that I have entered my World Music Years. You know, when Folk Festivals and African music showcases seem like a slightly better idea than indie rock late night boozy concerts. This means you are likely a) a parent and/or b) old. Guilty on both counts! Whatever, it was exactly what I needed.

Other recreational sign of being old: gardening. I have tried here and there to plant living things and have them remain living - without much success. But our new (rental) house has raised beds! And already living things like rosemary and daffodils and chives and hyacinths. And lovely soil. So now I am officially Gardening. With the help of a judicious garden tool purchase on Craigslist, I am pruning, digging, weeding, and plotting. I sent off my seed order to Territorial seeds today and am crazy excited for them to arrive. My favourite purchase of the week is gardening gloves. To date I have not actually grown anything, but my god, I'm trying.
Things that were already here but are growing, so at least I haven't killed them.

Windowsill with tulips, pussywillows and hyacinth.

I'm also trying to knit a banana but that's another story.