THE HIGH POINT OF MY BLUE DAY

My router won't allow incoming phone calls. It's like being on dial-up. I messed up its feeds for Pictures Just Pictures so people are being sent to the wrong blog. Ceres has torn leaves from my new bamboo and stuck them to the front door with spit. Nothing is quite right; not even the bamboo - though it is pretty. "The stems will go red in winter and look cheerful," said my brother, standing on the doorstep, with the pot clutched against his chest. "Happy Birthday," he said. This will brighten up your north facing spot." It won't. (What does he know about north facing spots?) Phyllostachys Spectabilis stems go red in the sun. This one will be briefly lit on a few mid-mornings during our short mid-summers. Its canes may go cheerfully red for Christmas. On the other hand . . . . . This is the high point of my day - saying Phyllostachys Spectabilis. I can pretend I knew its Latin name all along. I'm not just copying the label. Nothing can go wrong with it. It won't be directed to the wrong house; it is already here. It won't stand in the way of visitors who want to ring the doorbell. And if I can persuade Ceres to stop spitting on its leaves and sticking them to the front door - we may have a pleasant weekend.
For Tomorrow's Post
For Yesterday's Post

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