A Gerbera daisy, last weekend.
It is, today, Victoria Day. Which means little to anyone who isn't currently living, or hasn't lived in the past, in any country that at one time might have been part of the British Empire.
My country, however, qualifies, and we Canucks reap the benefits. Which, this weekend, included:
- Fireworks, banging and whistling outside, even as I'm typing this. And every other day this weekend, including Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. It seems there's either no consensus as to which is the right day, or a vast surplus of explosive devices around here.
- Freezing cold weather, just right for the tradition of working like a dog to get all the gardens in order, beds dug out, and flowers planted. Me, I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. And a zip-up fleece. And a lined shell jacket. And a hat. And gloves.
- Rain, and lots of it, meaning that all the gardening had to be done in a single day (today). I am, as they say, le tired.
- Lots of chaos in the house, as it was for the most part far too cold and miserable to let the Junior Ricardipi out of doors.
I've put the obligatory flower picture from the back yard at the top of this post, so I'll leave you at the end with a few local barns that I snapped during a quick foray into the countryside this afternoon. A worthwhile exercise? Probably not, but it makes me happy nonetheless.
A barn, and a building.
A big fancy one.
And an old, beat-up one with an antenna.
