Could somebody give me an explanation - I'll take any explanation, on the practical, physical or even spiritual level - why when I turned on my garden hose I blew the fuse to the kitchen?! I mean, in most houses, isn't the plumbing seperate from the electricity?! Moreover, it took me forever to get the lights back on because The Hub has a whole bunch of crap piled up in front of the fuse box. You'd think, after living with me for 9 years, the one thing we would have in this house is a clear path to the fuse box. Arrrggghh!

But I'm blessed. I have some female friends who don't even know where the fuse box in their house is. ( and maybe guys too, but they'd never admit it. Hmm) Anyway....

This morning, I planted almost all of the pansies I bought yesterday in window boxes or pots. I want to try to keep them going all summer long, so I'll have to keep them out of the sun. I set these on the front porch where I can move them in and out of the shade as the weather gets hot.

Last evening, while I was planting violas in the flower bed out near the sidewalk, an older lady, walking with a cane came up the street. She had a cup of coffee from the convenience store on the corner. I guess because the weather was so nice, she decided to try to get out for a walk. I'd never met her before, but she stopped to talk to me and complimented the way the daffodils in the yard look.

"Years and years ago, when I was in the 7th grade I had an English teacher who made us memorize a poem about daffodils" she remarked. Then, she straightened her back, and recited:

I WANDERED lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

She recited the whole poem in it's entirety. Just now I had to look it up. Then she asked, "Do you know who wrote that one?"

"Wordsworth" I was able to remember, and felt darn stupid on account of that she could recite the whole poem after about 50 years and I could barely remember the name of the guy after I heard the entire thing.

"Oh, yes! Now I remember. Anyway, since then they have been my favorite flowers."

"Mine too" I agreed. And they probably are...though I have a lot of "favorites" - it depends on what day you ask me.

But, still, this is what I love about living living in town. Sure, Wordsworth is out of fashion now, and you aren't supposed to admit it if you like him....but I bet in the suburbs you very rarely have anyone coming up to you reciting any poetry. It more than makes up for the freak who stole my purse.