Now Be Lilacs

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d,
And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,
I mourn’d, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring,
Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west,
And thought of him I love.
- Walt Whitman

Whitman wrote a poem about the long, sad train journey of Abraham Lincoln’s body to Washington, DC, marked by thousands of mourners along the route.  The above is the beginning of it.

As predicted, we have lilacs.  The tulips and daffodils are still going strong, and all the trees that bloom are thick with pink and white.  For people with spring allergies, it’s both gorgeous and sneezy up here.

I have put in a very small garden.  Our building offers waist-high garden plots – so much easier to plant and weed! – and I got half of one.  About two feet wide and four feet long, I have put in two tomato plants, sweet alyssum (Oh, the fragrance!) and a cucumber vine. I have surrounded my plot with dwarf marigolds in a (probably vain) attempt to keep the squirrels out.  I will add a hill of bush beans this week

And while I was at it, I got out a contraption I bought at the Minnesota State Fair last year.  It consists of a flat plate and three solid metal poles that screw onto it and each other.  You put the plate in to bottom of a big pot, screw in the poles, fill the pot with dirt.  Then you buy four flower pots and string them onto the pole, tilting them so they lean back and forth.  Plant flowers in the pots and you have an interesting garden in a very compact space.  I’m including a picture of it.

Knit Your Own Murder continues to roll out.  I’ve killed my second victim and my sleuth is about to notice that a person with a strong motive has easy access to the uncommon poison used on the second victim.  Dah-dah- DAH!  How can there be any literate person who does not wish to write a murder mystery?